D-Nice (born Derrick Jones on June 19, 1971) is the stage name of discjockey, beatboxer, rapper, producer and photographer who began his career in the mid-1980s with the hip hop group Boogie Down Productions.
D-Nice currently works as a freelance photographer for many individuals and labels, including Diddy, Cassie and Bad Boy Records.
He has a daughter Ashli Jones with an ex-girlfriend.
In August 2008 he married actress Malinda Williams. In October 2009 the couple separated. In February 2010 the couple filed for divorce.
Coordinates: 43°42′12″N 7°15′59″E / 43.7034°N 7.2663°E / 43.7034; 7.2663
Nice ( /ˈniːs/, French pronunciation: [nis]; Niçard Occitan: Niça [classical norm] or Nissa [nonstandard], Italian: Nizza or Nizza Marittima, Greek: Νίκαια, Latin: Nicaea) is the fifth most populous city in France, after Paris, Marseille, Lyon and Toulouse, with a population of 348,721 within its administrative limits on a land area of 71.92 km2 (28 sq mi). The urban area of Nice extends beyond the administrative city limits with a population of about 1 million on an area of 721 km2 (278 sq mi). Located on the south east coast of France on the Mediterranean Sea, Nice is the second-largest French city on the Mediterranean coast after Marseille.
The city is called Nice la Belle (Nissa La Bella in Niçard), which means Nice the Beautiful, which is also the title of the unofficial anthem of Nice, written by Menica Rondelly in 1912. Nice is the capital of the Alpes Maritimes département and the second biggest city of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region after Marseille.
Helen Merrill (born Jelena Ana Milcetic on July 21, 1930 in New York City) is an internationally known jazz vocalist.
Merrill's recording career has spanned six decades and she is popular with fans of jazz in Japan and Italy (where she lived for many years) as well as in her native United States. She has recorded and performed with some of the most notable figures in the American jazz scene.
Merrill was born in 1930 to Croatian immigrant parents. She began singing in jazz clubs in the Bronx at the age of fourteen. By the time she was sixteen, Merrill had taken up music full time. In 1952, Merrill made her recording debut when she was asked to sing "A Cigarette For Company" with the Earl Hines Band; the song was released on their Xanadu album. Etta Jones made her debut on the same album.
At this time she was married to musician Aaron Sachs. They divorced in 1956.
As a result of the exposure she received from "A Cigarette for Company" and two subsequent singles recorded for the Roost record label, Merrill was signed by Mercury Records for their new Emarcy label.
Clifford Brown (October 30, 1930 – June 26, 1956), aka "Brownie," was an influential and highly rated American jazz trumpeter. He died aged 25, leaving behind only four years' worth of recordings. Nonetheless, he had a considerable influence on later jazz trumpet players, including Donald Byrd, Lee Morgan, Booker Little, Freddie Hubbard, Woody Shaw, Valery Ponomarev, Wynton Marsalis, and many others.
He won the Down Beat critics' poll for the "New Star of the Year" in 1954; he was inducted into the Down Beat "Jazz Hall of Fame" in 1972 in the critics' poll.
Brown was born in Wilmington, Delaware. After briefly attending Delaware State University and Maryland State College, he was seriously injured in a car accident in June 1950. During his year-long hospitalization, Dizzy Gillespie visited the younger trumpeter and pushed him to pursue his musical career. Brown moved into playing music professionally, where he quickly became one of the most highly regarded trumpeters in jazz.
He was influenced and encouraged by Fats Navarro, sharing Navarro's virtuosic technique and brilliance of invention. His sound was warm and round, and notably consistent across the full range of the instrument. He could articulate every note, even at very fast tempos which seemed to present no difficulty to him; this served to enhance the impression of his speed of execution. His sense of harmony was highly developed, enabling him to deliver bold statements through complex harmonic progressions (chord changes), and embodying the linear, "algebraic" terms of bebop harmony. In addition to his up-tempo prowess, he could express himself deeply in a ballad performance.
Chesney Henry "Chet" Baker, Jr. (December 23, 1929 – May 13, 1988) was an American jazz trumpeter, flugelhornist and singer.
In the 1950s, Baker earned much attention and critical praise, particularly for albums featuring his vocals, such as Chet Baker Sings. Jazz historian David Gelly descibed the promise of Baker's early career as seemingly representing "James Dean, Sinatra, and Bix, rolled into one." However, his "well-publicized drug habit" also drove his notoriety and fame, as Baker was in-and-out of jail for much of his life before enjoying a career resurgence in the late 1970s and '80s.
Baker died in 1988 in Amsterdam, the Netherlands.
Baker was born and raised in a musical household in Yale, Oklahoma; his father was a professional guitar player. Baker began his musical career singing in a church choir. His father introduced him to brass instruments with a trombone, which was replaced with a trumpet when the trombone proved too large.
Baker received some musical education at Glendale Junior High School, but left school at age 16 in 1946 to join the United States Army. He was posted to Berlin where he joined the 298th Army band. Leaving the army in 1948, he studied theory and harmony at El Camino College in Los Angeles. He dropped out in his second year, however, re-enlisting in the army in 1950. Baker became a member of the Sixth Army Band at the Presidio in San Francisco, but was soon spending time in San Francisco jazz clubs such as Bop City and the Black Hawk. Baker once again obtained a discharge from the army to pursue a career as a professional musician.
Harry: And the excitement continues to build! Eat your heart out, Peter Frampton. )
It seems like two months
'Though I met her tonight
Something just told me
It would work out alright
So I asked her to act out
What was there in our heads
No need for games, babe,
Let's hop into bed
(audience reacts, Harry says, I figured that'd get ya. )
That's when I said
Oh, get on with it
Let's get it done
Life is made up of moments
Let's not miss this one
Oh, get on with it
Before it's too late
We know where we're going
There's no, no, no, no need to wait.
But that's when she says
Let's take it slowly
You don't really know me
If we make it holy
Maybe it will last
What is your hurry
You don't need to worry
The one thing we know
Is that time, time, time goes too fast.
Soon it's working so well
I got her moving in
All the permanent thoughts
Already begin
You see she is the woman
That I want for my wife
I say, Let's set a date, babe,
And get on with our life.
And that's when I said again
Oh, get on with it
Let's get it done
Life is made up of moments
Let's not miss this one
Oh, get on with it
Before it's too late
We know where we're going
There's no, no, no, no need to wait.
But once again she says
Let's take it slowly
Still you don't know me
If we make it holy
Maybe it will last
What is your hurry
You don't need to worry
The one thing we know
Is that time, time, time goes too fast.
I don't know what happened
As we moved along
But all of a sudden
It came out all wrong
She said, It's all over
Let's not drag out the end
If we split up now
Then at least we'll stay friends.
And that's when she said
Get on with it
You know it's all done
We had our moments
Don't dwell on this one
Oh, get on with it
You know it's too late
Oh, yes, it's all over
There's no, no, no, no need to wait.
But that's when I say
Let's take it slowly
You know how you know me
And once it was holy
Don't give up so fast
What is your hurry
You don't need to worry
The one thing we know
Is that time, time, time goes too fast.
I grew up in the city where everything is rough
Where everywhere I turn, I seen somebody gettin bust
Plus everywhere I look
All I could see is a crackhead or a goddamned crook
Runnin' around with a pistol or a blade
Stickin' up -- in other words, gettin' paid
But I chose not to follow those ways
Cause the only place you headin' is to jail or the grave
But on the other hand
I know a man named Stan
Who in the future had plans
To be successful on his quest to
Take his moms and pops out the ghetto
But that plan was soon to be crushed
When one day he realized he must
Get a better job to pay for his schoolin
While his friends would sit around just coolin
He applied for a job in the system
And everywhere he looked, everybody would diss him
He doesn't have any type of skill
And life is not all games, it's real
he took a long walk down the street
Tryin' to think of a way to make his ends meet, huh
So he could buy the fly things he adored
And all Stan wanted to make was a few dollars more
As he walked home, he thought to himself
Now what am I supposed to do to get wealth
He felt that his life was worthless
Then he ran into his man named Curtis
Now Curtis, he's the type that stops and brags
About all the things he's got
Drivin' a Saab with a black ragtop
Come to find out Curt's workin' for the cops
He told Stan there's a job that's open
Makin' it all sound good, just hopin he would take it
Yup, and like a big dummy
Stan said "Freak it, yo, I need the money"
Curt took Stan to meet his boss
Officer Sims, a sergeant on the force
He gave him a gun and Stan began
His new career as a damn hit man
his boss really liked his work
And gave the boot to his partner Curt
he didn't realize what he was in for
And all Stan wanted to make was a few dollars more
A few dollars more is what he started to make
Now he's drivin' around a Saab, with a house upstate
He got gold and diamond rings
Crazy girls and all those glamorous things
But one day this life-style end
When one afternoon while hangin' with a friend
Sittin' in the park, drinkin' quarts of beer
And somebody said "Throw your hands in the air,
It's a stick-up" and put the gun to his head
And said, "Make another move and you're dead"
Now Stan had to make is choice
He paused and said I recognize that voice
Huh, where have I heard this
Now he remember, it's his man named Curtis
Curtis is mad and felt he'd been robbed
"Cause Stan is drivin' around in his Saab
He looked at Stan and said, "I can't believe him,
Now its' time for me to get even"
Stan made a move real quick
Curt jumped back and said, "Yo, that's it"
Shot him in the back of his head with a nine
Reached in his pocket, grabbed his cash and then dashed
Now here lies the man on the side
The same way he lived was the same way he died
He never knew what he had in store
[Intro: KRS-One]
Bo bo bo! How many times I gotta tell you man? D-Nice, number one
lyracist out here in the world today. All the suckers that want to
perpetrate the fraud must come correct! Know what I'm saying? This
is KRS-One from the massive BDP crew. And of course we are doing it
just for you. The styles are from 1990, and 1991 and 1992. So we
gonna break it down a little something like this, check it out.
[Chorus: KRS-One]
I say the TR-808 is coming, bright and early in the morning
I say the TR-808 is coming, but you see that is daily living
[Verse One: D-Nice]
I-I'm D-Nice the 808 it's no mistake
Now this is not the time but the music that I make
And wait, I'm telling you, why don't you just listen
Just because I come from the Bronx I'm not dissing or wishing
Cause the beat sounds groovy
I drink Ammoretta on the rocks cause it cools me off
And usually when I am speaking
I usually wear a cap and gown when I'm teaching
Or reaching out, huh, to touch someone
I'm rocking on the microphone just to have fun
So run (Bo bo bo!) cause I'm number one
And if you want to battle me then pull out a gun
Don't forget the ammo-nition and listen
Don't ever bite a lyric cause then you're pissing me off
And with the style that I'm bringing
The girls love it, and of course, girls I'm swinging
And seeing (Bo bo bo!) I left the girls' hearts broken
Now I'm back to tell you all I'm not joking
And I'm hoping you see that I'm the main topic
You put me in the wildest crowd and I'm a rock it
[Chorus]
[Outro: KRS-One]
Yes man, you see every time of the week BDP rules! You know what I'm saying?
My man D-Nice in the house producing up his own album this time in 1990. How
many of you suckers out there can get with that? Ha ha, you know what I'm
saying? I'm not gonna give no shoutouts on this record because the whole BDP
crew know who down and who ain't down, so if you not down, throw your hands in
the air if you ain't down. Ha ha, suckers! We fresh for 1990 as usual. My man
D-Nice wrecking the parties, wrecking the females, wrecking the clubs all over
the country. London, Japan, Germany, everywhere on the planet we rule. Get it
(Let's go)
Chorus
[ CHORUS ]
To the rescue, Nice, to the rescue! (4x)
[ VERSE 1 ]
Well, it's about that time for the hyper one to react
But in fact, get back, cause I got the sudden impact
And I get hot like a sunny day
So the man D-Nice ain't the one to play
Cause I remember the one who tried to carry on
Stepped up and got ran like a marathon
Cause he thought he was able
And got served with the 'Crumbs On The Table'
Cause I'm the type wihthout Vanilla hype
I rush into the night and snuff you with a pipe
That's right, so rappers with lip
When I flip, you might just catch a Mac-10 clip
Cause I've had it up to here with the nonsense
Swingin with this you get dissed
Cause yo, my mouth is like a loaded Tec-9
For those that try to take mine
[ CHORUS ]
(Let me tell you)
(Let me tell you something)
[ VERSE 2 ]
Now guess what I heard: a brother can't flow
That is a no, no, no, cause I flow just like a all-pro
So now I'm ready to go, cause I'm open now
Competition that's dissin gets broken down
So just sit down, clown, or I'm smackin ya
Cause I'm rough, yet smooth as an Acura
So capture my stature and rapture
And I'll never ask you to praise me like a statue
Just dig into the music that I threw down
And now you know who to call for a new sound
Cause I sat back and watched some get laughed at
Tryin to get live with weak raps and a half-track
But here's a piece of the whole pie
So grab your mic and give it a bold try
You try to step up, remember I stepped through
For those that get stuck, it's Nice to the rescue
(To the rescue, Nice)
I burn rappers till they turn to dust
So all competition better catch the bus
Or get crushed and ate like food, boy
That's the outcome messin around with the rudeboy
(D is back, D is cool)
[ CHORUS ]
Check it out
I wanna give a strong 'wussup'
To my man McBoo chillin on the boards with Barbara
I got my man Skeff in the house
My man Ty
Right here standin next to me I got my man E-Marvelous
We got Lil' Low in the house
J-Boss, my man Tone
40th Street Black in the house
You know what I'm sayin?
I wanna say what's up to everybody out there in the world today
Ha-ha
And I'm outta here
So if you ever need somebody to get rid of the suckers...
You know who to call
[ VERSE 1 ]
Well I'm known to wreck a mic like a prince, so all hail
To the raw deal, on a scale your style's frail
I don't believe I can fail, cause I'm headstrong
You're trackin me, plus jackin me knowin that you're dead wrong
I got a Tec for those that wanna step
You're ghost, cause since you're playin me close you're gettin checked
And I can't conceive a better way to do it
So when you're in my comp, get ready to be stomped, there's nothin to it
Cause I got piles of wicked styles and files of tracks
I get wild with a South Bronx style of rap
So you think you got rap sewn happily?
How's that: you couldn't sow shirts in a factory
You're what I label as a hip-hop hypocrite
You smile in my face, behind my back runnin off with lip
But I got somethin to kill that, though
I'm a real rap pro, bad bro, so now you know
(The TR 808)
(Straight, straight from the Bronx)
[ VERSE 2 ]
Now back to the scene of the crime
I was taught to bust a nine
At any and all who's outta line
Yo, that's the way I was shown how to hold my own
Until I found other ways on the microphone
I used to see so many out on the ave. die
Strung high, playin a game, and that's why
So many up in the Bronx, they got done
For livin a lifestyle of crime like it was fun
But now I'm hittin ya hard and pullin the cards
Of those that wanna act a fool, they got schooled
And got caught with a right to the mug
It wasn't enough, cause they wanted to bug and caught a slug
And got they bodies just laid to rest
Cause in the streets you gotta get all you can, and no less
The first minute you do, you get bucked
So you and your crew better duck
When you step into the Bronx
(The TR 808)
(Straight, straight from the Bronx)
Check it
I wanna take this time
To send this out to my man Dino
And to my man Scott-La-Rock
Cause if it wasn't for them
I wouldn't be here today
But since I'm here
I'ma continue to make funky music for my brothers
You know what I'm sayin?
I'm outta here
[ INTRO: KRS-One ]
Come now
Now everyone comes in and says that they are
The lyrical champion
But of course there is only a few
That can really stand by that
Come now
[ CHORUS ]
Rhymin skill, rhymin skills (bo!)
Yes, D-Nice, you got the rhymin skills (come now)
Rhymin skill, rhymin skills (bo!)
Yes, D-Nice, you got the rhyme
[ VERSE 1 ]
The TR 808, and I cultivate with this trait
Nobody can imitate or relate, cause I'm the great (say what?)
Here's your fate, put your weight down on it
And if you try to step to me, I make you pay down pon it (bo!)
Cause I'm the one, and some compare me to the drum
The lyrics and bass combined will make your sound system hum
So when I come you should bow down greatfully
Cause even if you're protected, ya can't face the D
Cause the microphone is just a crumb in your possession
Considerin that I take the cake in this profession
So here's a lesson on the bass with smooth deliverance
And it's called the 'TR 808 experience'
[ CHORUS ]
[ VERSE 2 ]
There's no mistakin, there's not another brother great when
I step in the place, step out my face with the haste, and
Cause I'm the TR 808, and
Rippin the mic up, in other words you know I'm breakin
New grounds with my sounds, so don't consider
Tryin me (say what?) cause I don't pop the glitter
On my gear, no, not even a tiny bit
I'm Nice, not Ice, so I don't rock the shiny shit
I rock my Nikes instead when I strut (say what?)
I may rock a ring when I feel, but so what?
My rhymes are sharp, so they cut
You're on my tip so much, I mistake you for my cup
Yeah
Right about know I want all y'all suckers to know this is real
(Yes, D-Nice, you got the rhymin skills)
So anyone who cannot go with the flow that I throw
I get the dough, and oh - now you know
I got the
[ CHORUS ]
[ OUTRO: KRS-One ]
Ease up and hold tight
All Brooklyn massive
All Bronx massive
All Uptown crew
Just sekkle
The mighty D-Nice come down ruff and wicked
Pop this in your cassette
The Don [Name] must rule everytime, seen?
Rhymin skill, say rhymin skill - come!
Yes, D-Nice, you have di rhymin skills - come now!
Rhymin skill, say rhymin skill - bo!
Yes, D-Nice, you have di rhymin skills - bo!
No peace till justice
Eh-heh, eh-heh eh-heh, ay
Eh-heh.. huh.. ay
This is the pimp of the year
I want I want to tell y'all a story, about this ho (yes)
Her name was Janine
Heh, she thought she was all that, but y'all know what time it is
Hah, I put her to work
[D-Nice]
Bust it
One Friday night I was chillin at a party (doin what?)
Feelin smooth, drinkin Coke and Bacardi
I seen her on the scene, lookin lean
This beauty queen - her name? Janine
I was about to push up but before I can think
she looked my way and then she flashed a wink (blink)
I started to think, this crazy side
(Heh, pimp daddy knockin out them boots tonight!)
Oh yes, she was very well dressed
I asked her her name, and she said yes
I said, "Umm let me see, now is it Vanessa?"
She said, "Janine, but Chocolate fits better"
Chocolate?! How'd you like to waste some time
With no hesitation she replied with, "Fine"
Huh, the first thing that came to mind was
(Heh, eh-heh) that fat ass is mine! (YEAH)
So off we went, back to the crib
The question arose, how do I live?
I said, "Yo, I'm not the mouse or the wimp
To make it clear, I'm the pimp of the year" (pimp of the year)
She said, "Please - look how you're dressed
Tell me what seperates you from the rest"
I said yo..
Yo look baby, I'm what you call a A.P.P.
An All Purpose Pimp, haha
Cause I'll pimp yo' momma, your sister
And I'll even take G.P. - that's granny panties, haha!
She was fascinated, she wanted to work
I said, "Okay but eighty-six the skirt" (take it off!)
And guide your tongue, from my crack to my feet (gon' be funky)
Then.. (hah, yeah, eh-heh) you'll be ready for the streets
Down came the skirt, before I can guess
Off went the blouse and the bra was next (what?)
I was impressed but I must confess
Hey yo Tone, that bitch had CARAZZY hair on her chest
"Heavens to Merkatroid!"
Hahaha, ahahahaha
I shaved her down, so the story goes
Put her to work as one of my hoes (one of my hoes)
The moral of the story is girls beware
Cause lurkin in your neighborhood (is who?) is the pimp of the year
Heh, aheheh, yo, ah-he, yo heh
Yo this the pimp of the year, ha ha
I wanna tell y'all, I wanna tell all y'all hoes out there
beware of me, ha ha, you know
Cause, I'm in your bedroom, eh-heh
Heh, I'm in your closet, eh-hah-hah
Ay, I'm even in the skins baby, ah-hah
Ay, ah-hah, matter of fact, eh-heh, yo
Get up off your knees ho, ah-ha, you know what?
{*scratched: "kick the science"*}
[D-Nice]
So what's up? I hear you've been lookin for the Nice
But now I'm here, standin clear in your sight
or your vision, I only recommend to your visual
Mess around and this becomes critical
Easily, cause any rapper I ruin
You're talkin bout foolin me? What could you do to me?
Nothin, you're frontin, it'll be your last
Mess around punk, and get a foot in your {ass}
Cause my voice on wax, gettin paid in stacks
You tryin to diss? Well you might get smacked
In fact I might stomp you straight in the ground
So kill that talk and have a Coke and a smile
Or else have a glass of milk, and a cookie
Cause to me you're just a rookie
In my world, playin my game
To hang with the Nice you must be insane
I reign/rain like a shower, with power
Servin MC's every hour on the hour on a platter
Watchin you shatter, like glass
Fallin by the mass, I'm trainin by the class
And last, I'm here to cold tear you up
Now you know what I'm sayin, so just SHUT THE HELL UP
Cause if not, you better throw your hands in the air
And prepare, to go to war with this here
{*scratched: "kick the science"*}
[D-Nice]
I'ma - microphone teacher, plus the Black Caesar
Talk about your crew, right down to your skeezer
So just ease off, or else decline
Takin you out ANY season, not just summertime
So choose your season to tangle
I can strangle, with my microphone cable
Then I played you
No matter what, you suckers STILL "Crumbs On the Table"
So be able to hold your own weight
But do not make the mistake and come straight to my face
Sayin I'm too young for this
Please, huh, cause I'll fry you like fish
But just in case you misunderstood
or can't comprehend then boy you should
pick up the telephone, and "Call Me D-Nice"
Area code eight-oh-eight, and I might
teach you how to rhyme on beat
Teach you that dog don't rhyme with skreet
Show you how to tell a real hit from a flop
And teach you what's wack don't rise to the top
Stop - but let me tell you somethin
Steppin to me is like "Self Destruction"
I don't malfunction, nor do I get high
Before you disrespect, you better buy my album
Better yet, the first chapter
Peace to Red, D-Square and Blastmaster
And any rapper, who tries to disrespect D
Huh, it's all about me
"When they gon' give us the blue suits?"
[D-Nice]
Back in the civil war days of 1863
was the year that free
blacks would try to adapt as soldiers
Live as equals and get what's owed us
And in this time they had yet to find inner peace
Which comes from the heart and mind
So listen close as I explain the story
of the regiment of blacks on the path to find Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor" .. on the path to find Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor"
[D-Nice]
Bust it, yo
Here's an example of courage and strength
that dwelled in the men that went the whole length
To prove that each can stand as a man
And demonstrate, he can carry his own weight
But there was some tryin to add to the plight
of the black man, denyin his right to fight
as an equal, for self-esteem
Ran through the crew or so it seemed
Cause even in times when life seemed colder
He still remained proud to be a black soldier
Waitin for the chance to advance
and under the circumstance, managed to enhance
his courage, and when put to war
he'd do much more than what's bargained for
And each man, that can tell the story
knew from the start deep down in his heart they'd find Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor" .. on the path to find Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor" .. break it down
{*scratch: "here's an example of courage and strength"*}
[D-Nice]
These brothers have died and cried, for power and freedom
But now look what we've done
We're robbin and killin our own race
Black and rap will be lost without a trace
So take heed to the knowledge I'm bustin
You're sellin yourself short, that's "Self Destruction"
The song I sing to let freedom ring
So listen to the knowledge I bring as I speak about Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor" .. as I speak about Glory
"Courage, spirit, and honor" .. yeah
"Courage, spirit, and honor"
(Is that a turntable? Well get on it, it's your turn)
Who gets laid, the chicken or the egg?
How about the MC that has just been led
To a renegade teacher, preacher then he got stomped
Cause I'm a feature straight from the Bronx
Productions, better known as Boogie Down
If I was a king right now I'd get crowned
The Nice is a teacher, not a prince or a rap lord
I even write my rhymes on a blackboard
To get specific, and probably make you understand
What makes the 808 plan
It's simple, I'm a round it off like this
That's how many stupid MC's I've dissed
But if the commence to try me I won't buy it
I'll look them up and down and I'll say "Don't even try it"
Cause I can go on and on without breathing
The TR, another form of BDP-eating
MC's like Chunky, moving real bluntly
Shaking and baking MC's like a junky
Fiending, hitting MC's like they was cocaine
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no name
I'll spin you like a quarter, drink you like water
Hit below the belt with things you never thought of
I lay down the law that I am a slaughter
I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta
Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat
In water, now watch you soak
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottom
It's heavy like an anchor, it's no problem
For me to just bake you, eat you like a cookie
I am a profressional, boy, you're just a rookie
I'm here to sing a song, but some are not able
Compared to me you're just crumbs on the table
In my prime, more vocal than I've ever been
I'm not an amateur, sort of like a veteran
Split from the bums, arriving from a long trip
Now I'm back to just cold rip
MC's like confetti, eat 'em like spaghetti
I chill for a year and yet I'm still ready
To house MC's, sink 'em like a boat will
I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal
So now you know the 808 is showing
I do damage in just one moment
Here's a little message to those who want to hang out
Just remember that I give pain out
The TR-808 relates to a terrorizer
Never hiding, clever always memorizing
Poetry, history, math, or even paragraphs
I'm not into b-boying, just hoeing
Showing, blowing MC's like the wind does
I might lay you, sort of like a hen does
Cause your rhymes are weak and unstable
Compared to me you're just crumbs on the table
You must think, before you even get soup
I'll put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute
Like a street whore, make you want more and more
Move you to the side, up and down like a seesaw
Pulling out a gun is uncalled for
But I'm with it, so go for yours
You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery
I pack more volts than a Duracell battery
Charging MC's, smooth like the breeze
Scott made me funky, yo, that was one theme
Or topic, showing I be rocking
Every little city I play I leave a heat wave
Burning up the industry, never try to get with me
I'm the type of person that never needs rehearsing
Just a little sex, a six pack of Beck's
And my room to move about, and a Guiness Stout
To make me feel able, chilling, and stable
Sometimes I'm on the mic, sometimes I'm on the turntable
I'm superb, sort of like herb
[D-Nice]
You know, $hort
A lotta people out there
Wanna be my friend, you know
Just because I got a little hit record out, you know I'm sayin
[Too $hort]
I know, I know
Rap groupies, you know
He-he
[D-Nice]
Definitely rap groupies
You know what I'm sayin?
Yo, we should do a little somethin for em, you know
[Too $hort]
Check em
Let's just check em
Check em real quick
[D-Nice ]
Let's check em, man
[CHORUS: both]
I know that you're a hoe for my wealth
You better just check yourself
Cause in these days we don't go for that
So you better try someone else [x2]
[VERSE 1: D-Nice]
Now I can recall the first time I was out on tour
With my boy Too $hort, leavin everyone in awe
I met this little honey, she said, "Hi, my name is Bunny"
I never would have thought she was out for my money
Now she appeared to me to be smart and legit
Equipped with hips that'll break your whole shit
But before that I can get a chance to knock it
The goldigger's goldiggin in my pocket
First she tried to say that she was playin
She musta thought I was a fool cause she was sayin
"Ugh, oh D-Nice, I want you, I want you"
I wouldn't try to trust her even if I want to
I wanted just to smack her in the face
But hittin females is just a bad mistake
I guess tryin to get your money is a hobby or a sport
Cause next she tried to kick it to my boy Too $hort
[VERSE 2: Too $hort]
It's kinda funny: you want money from a pimp
(Biatch) you're thinkin like fifty percent
I put my foot in your ass and then I owe you the rest
I know the game, hoe, cause I'm the best
Playin broads ain't based on luck
You want money? I wanna fuck
And after we do all that
I'm takin my money back
Biatch, kiss my pimpin ass
Cause all the time I didn't have this cash
You wouldn't call, wouldn't give me a number
I couldn't see ya like Stevie Wonder
I made a hit record, now I got money
You wanna play Short Dog for a dummy
You're so cool cause you think I'm rich
You know you wanna be my bitch
I'm not single, baby, not for you
Fuck a bitch, and that's the goddamn truth
If I was you, I wouldn't hold my breath
Cause all you money-hungry hoes might starve to death
[CHORUS]
[VERSE 3: D-Nice]
Now I'm not tryin to come down too hard
If you need some money, you should go and get a job
But this one does not go out to all women
Just those who try to kick game for a livin
Cause I'm not the one to be played
So don't step to me when you wanna get paid
Cause you're the type of woman that survives on greed
Yo $hort, won't you tell her what she needs
[ Too $hort ]
What you need is some type of financial support
You won't get shit from your boy Too $hort
I don't pay bitches and never will
I'm too busy tryin to pay my bills
I understand your reason for tryin
But I been mackin since '79
You better check yourself before you wreck yourself
Short Dog's in the muthafuckin house, bitch
(Chorus)
My name is D-Nice...
Taking out you suckers and you don't know how I did it
Yo, this is D-Nice and I'm about to drop some funky lyrics on this track I
made up, you know what I'm saying, huh, yea and you don't stop, yo
My name is D-Nice although I hate to admit it
Taking out you suckers and you don't know how I did it
See every episode remains in this mode
Very cool, very calm, there's no sweat in my palm
I just pick up the mic, procede wit a song
I get right to the point, my competition's not long or short
It's like a sport hanging in the middle
But now if you're puzzled, let me kick the whole riddle
That my name is Derek and if I didn't mention
D-Nice is just a description
It describes the kid on the mic
I'm the TR-808, huh, but just call me D-Nice
Chorus
I start to think, a very big conscious all around me
Who will be the sucker MC to try to doubt me
Is it you, or you, or you, or you, or him
But I'm like a tree and every lyric is a limb
You throw it on the turntable, very unstable
But you gamble because you need that example
There's a 1000 MC's on the planet earth now
What is the word you say to get hers
Some like to explain, some talk educated
Some like McBoo, he's X-rated
I like to think of myself as a pure rebel
A radical thinker on a musical level
'Cause suckers wanna stop me and girls wanna kiss
Wherever I go, yo, it seems I can't be dis
'Cause my name is D-Nice but all the girls call me Derek
It ran through my crew so I guess I've inherit
The job of explaining and also retaining
The fact D-Nice is remaining
Not a king nor a prince but as a teacher
Wit dopies like this, I know I'm gonna reach ya
So now I don't think you should all despise
This fact D-Nice is on a rise
Straight to the top like a bubble of water
It's a slaughter so I think you oughta
Think realistically, not egotistically
It's suicide if you even think of dissing me
'Cause if you try, I'm a make you wait
To learn the reason I'm the 808, but just call me D-Nice
Chorus
I live in the Bronx by the D and the 4
Writing lyrics, it's addictive, writing more and more and more
About peace, about wars, about whores
Breaking city laws to me become a chore
I wear no jeri curls but I still pull girls
I don't slur my words when I rap 'cause that's wack, huh
But in fact, I do not slack
When I drop the funky, funky lyric on a track
I'm not conceited when I walk the streets
And you can tell by the words that I speak
That I'm not just another brother on the mic
'Cause the females love me and they call me D-Nice
Fresh for '90 you suckers!
[D-Nice]
You don't stop, a keep on
Yo, this is the Nice in full effect..
I send this one out to my man McBoo..
Special request out to Mo, Shawn, KRS-One
and the BDP posse in full effect with Ms. Melodie..
And you don't stop
I send this one out to my man, Kool DJ Red Alert
and the Jungle Brothers..
I send this one out to my man Dino
Big Steve, and the whole 164th street posse, y'knahmsayin?
I send this one out to my man Willie Dee
Manager Mo, hehe, Simone..
And you don't stop
Yo here's a little small promo..
Bust it, listen MC's, or get broke
The mic I strike and all that's left is smoke
The mics you struck, was held by ducks
You wanna light my mic, hold up, you're outta luck
and time, chant this rhyme as I tell ya
Front on the mic tonight and I'll sell ya
a wolf ticket, to the Twilight Zone
Like Al. B Sure, you're off on your own
microphone that alone could display all day
Then I'll slay your array
of deranged rhymin, no timin
Like a mountain man I keep climbin
Over your vocals, reignin supreme
Takin me out on the mic is a dream
Age 19, and my theme
is hittin skins while I make the ends
meet while I speak straight to the weak
For those that oppose, I'll even defeat
Point blank, period, your rhymes are slayed
You're feelin the clash of the knight's crusade
So clear the stage, as I invade
When compared to me you're low grade
On this stage, you better be stable
Compared to me you're just "Crumbs On the Table"
Ha ha you don't stop, keep on, a keep comin strong
I'ma send this one out to P.E., MC Lyte ha ha
Robocop, my man Scott LaRock, ha ha!
My man Big Bob, Sidney, haha
And you don't stop, and you don't stop, and you don't stop, haha!
It was a hot summer day, I was dyin from the heat
Walkin up 118th street
Although I'm hot like stew
In the back of my mind it was a bottle of brew
Now a ice cold bottle would just quench my thirst
Or get some boom from the dread, which ever one comes first
Now is it brew? (yeah) or is it boom? (yeah)
So I lit up the boom and now may I presume? (yeah)
Now about 3 o'clock I had to meet my crew
I looked at my watch and then I noticed it was half past 2
I saw these two honeys walkin down the avenue
And one of them said: all I think about is havin you
Now in my mind I realized I coulda took her, coulda took her
But Nice is not the one to treat the ladies like a hooker
Don't mean to diss, but it's not on my list
So I gave her a kiss and said: ehm, good-bye, miss
From the streets I heard a horn beep
There was a crew 4 deep in a dark blue jeep
I heard em speak, he said: my ride is fat
So why you're sweatin D-Nice, baby, he ain't all that
Now first things first, why all the rude behaviour
You shoulda been taught how to respect this flavor
He jumped out the jeep like yo, what up chief
But I don't eat pork, so I guess he wanted beef
I realized I was on my own
I didn't proceed to make a move until a blow was thrown
He swung but missed, I caught him with a fist
Although I wish it didn't have to come to this
I started breakin him down with the speed, had him astounded
The right caught his jaw and it sounded
Like boom boom bap boom bam
He had no idea that D was nice with his hands
He stepped back, so I thought he was through
But right about now up steps his crew
We all threw down and went round for round
I'm givin it all I had to give until I fell face down
They proceeded to stomp but in all of the madness
Somehow someway I was damn sure glad this
Person slid me a pistol from behind
Not the weasel, pop-pop-pop goes the 9
So if you're wonderin why you ain't heard word of them
I (murder them murder them)
But since I pulled the trigger I guess I have to pay the price