Title: #1
Subtitle: First song
Artist: Emil Norell and Michael Boberg
Album: The Norellic
Author: Emil Norell and Michael Boberg
Copyright:
Tabled by:
Instructions:
Notices:
Tempo: 120 BPM
Tracks: 5
Instruments:
Bars: 24

Lyric

Shh, I'm sayin', I wasn't even gonna do this shit
But I owe this motherfucker a favor
That's why I'm go do shit
But ya'll motherfuckers better stay quiet

Open the door, catch ya coping for more
Told you before, velvet, smooth as velour
Step in the light, Black Sheep, rep in it right
Never we high, too much ebony pride

Something to see, scratch that, something ya be
Paying my dues, God knows, nothing for free
Taking it back, paper, making a stack
Counter-attack, dance floors, making them crack

Running the course, got black, running with force
Rocking the spot, got y'all, loving the choice
Feeling the flame, Black Sheep, killing the pain
Spilling the love, sunshine, feeling the same

Setting the tone, Black Sheep, let it be known
Cooler than ice, hamming it up, keeping it's own
Making it knock, all the way from the writer's block
Geek in ox tails with cocktails, holding my cock, yo

First, exhale with the excel
And then call your crew on your net cell
And then open up a beer and roll a L
And then party all night rest well

But first, exhale with the excel
And then everything you do you do it well
And then even if your hurt you never tell
And then everybody loves the clientele

I'm the type to not follow, lead and drop throttle
Recline and pop bottles with designer top models
The type to not sweat it, stacking not regret it
Said it with hot head, my thing, got to get it

I move, like a phantom, amidst the meddlesome
Destined to hit the top, Dres the kettledrum
Kennel one pedigree, the flow stank dingee
Share my point of view in a world way stingy

I be the principal, it be invisible
There be no optical above the pinnacle
More like I got a fuse, for when you got to choose
Who in a lot of crews, a million molecules

There won't be no debate, my skills are overweight
If you can't hold, you hate, I over compensate
It's Dres, D R E S, the one that does it best
My styles illustrious, my moves are limitless

First, exhale with the excel
And then call your crew on your net cell
And then open up a beer and roll a L
And then party all night rest well

But first, exhale with the excel
And then everything you do, you do it well
And then even if your hurt you never tell
And then everybody loves the clientele

Now it doesn't even matter if I do or if I don't have dough
It's like I'm walking on red carpet everywhere that I go
A renegade with rhymes rolling to the tune, low key
Opposite the velvet ropes where Heinekens flow free

And I'm known throughout the world for what I do with one bar
Slap a rapper, even crack a nigga lower lumbar
Ain't gotta front for nada, it don't mean a thing
The only keys I got are the ones swinging on my key ring

Ain't gotta toss threads, throw rolls and dress funny
Just gotta be Dres, stay black and get money
Ain't gotta smoke weed, pop ex or sniff blow
Just gotta be Dres, stay black and get dough

So cool, they called me old school in the eighties
With ladies in their Mercedes at the foot of the good Fridays
On some Handsome Boy shit, telling how to trust me
Till she's speaking in tongues, screaming out monk free

First, exhale with the excel
And then call your crew on your net cell
And then open up a beer and roll an L
And then party all night rest well

But first, exhale with the excel
And then everything you do, you do it well
And then even if your hurt you never tell
And then everybody loves the clientele

What front? Back, I'm 'bout to rip
What front? Back, I'm 'bout to rip
What front? Back, I'm 'bout to rip
What front? Back, I'm 'bout to rip
What front? Back, I'm 'bout to rip