Remember the Titans (feat. DJ Doo​-​Bay, Kreative Tendencies, Black Smith & QUAY) - Single

by Quentino

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In this single for Quentino's "Scorpio, Vol. 2: Sign of the Times" mixtape, the Publish or Perish collective join together for one monstrous collaboration.

credits

released January 15, 2013

Vocals: DJ Doo-Bay (@Doo_Bay), Kreative Tendencies (@JohnDillinger_), Black Smith (@J_Smith_Real), Quentino (@quentin_roberts)
Mixing and Mastering: Black Smith, CT (@YoursTrulyCT)
Production: J. Cardim
Single Artwork: Stealth Designs (@ElephantStealth)

J. Cardim, A. Dobbins, G. Dube, J. Quaynor, Q. Roberts, J. Smith

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Track Name: Remember the Titans (feat. DJ Doo-Bay, Kreative Tendencies, Black Smith & QUAY)
[Verse 1 - DJ Doo-Bay]
We three kings? Make that six
Man, Three 6 Mafia: we are the shit
Yeah, you can call us the New Age New Wave
This is how we do it, man: We takin' it, we seizin' the day
The crown is ours! Man, the kingdom has come
This is how we been doin' it, man: We've been sent from above
Yeah, we the angels, the riders, the Seven Horsemen
We're comin' to slaughter all y'all bitches, because this is our time... again
Yeah, we doin' it! Re-run that back
You heard me! One more time, this is our fuckin' track
This is how we're doin' it: Murderin', pillaging, rapin'
You know we're doin' this shit, and murkin' them all of the days end
Yeah, till I get old, till I die, till I'm decrepit
See, you know I'm doin' this shit, you couldn't even measure me
This is my talent, my honor and glory
Motherfucker, I ain't through yet: listen to our story
Remember the day, that you remembered my name
My name is D-O-O-B-A-Y, Doo-Bay
That's right; you heard me!
Yeah, that's how we do it: Kickin' fancy bars, fancy cars
You know we doin' it all day! Motherfucker, we live
So large, so large; yeah, that's how we're doin' it
Livin' real BIG, real BIG; you know we never losin' it
This is ours, this is the day we seizin' it, bitch
This is P.o.P., motherfucker! We the kings, we rich!

[Verse 2 - Kreative Tendencies]
First off, let me say hi! My name is Kreative
I got a beat that burns strips--- yeah, I mean "cremated"
Lemme say hi to everybody on the strip
Before I hop in the whip
And I just drive, straight
No stoppin'! Pedal to the medal
I ain't stoppin' for nothin', unless it's gas or a drink
Or, model-type chick sittin' on the side of the road
That ain't gon' make me pay for the fuckin' pink
And I ain't talkin' 'bout "pink" as gettin' in them cars
I'm talkin' 'bout "pink" is me gettin' in bras
And gettin' in them drawers (What?!?)
Huhh? I'm sorr', I'm just tryna do my best to stay, out from them bars
I, I mean, stay out from behind bars
I'm just trying to do everything legit, Ma
I'm just trying to do everything like my Momma says
Back to the fact that this beat is
Vegas strip in the Fifties
Me in my zoot suit, red, no dickies
Got the gators on, light glistenin'
You can see it, light glistenin'
Off the, Rolex, behind that crystal glass
I keep tickin' like that line behind the crystal glass
I keep movin', keep goin'
I'm not stoppin' for nobody, I got the Pifinarina movin'!

[Verse 3 - Black Smith]
Black Smith here, (hah!), we ready for war
Said we was honing our craft--- "what you preparing us for?"
The homies asked me. I replied, "the takeover's in store
They ain't ready, 'cause we 'bout to make Doomsday even more!"
Fuck the world; she's a whore --- fuck the Mayans, we score
'Bout to bring the gavel down on the John Conners of lore
Bust through their decorum, usher Death through the door
He been tailin' me since I ain't shown remorse to the Lord
But what if I do? Would that make Shame go away
Nah, niggas ain't survive to tell tales the next day
That's why I unload on the track, like there's no comin' back
I'm unleasin' my wrath, son; what you know about dat?
Gearin' up for the clash, now that I've chosen this path
Robert Frost at the fork, got me rethinkin' fast
Clouds are loomin' around, the darkest ones, matter fact
Apocalypse strikes, yeah we the ones up to bat
The microphone sage, African-American pain
Still Pegasus vein, stallion forever in fame
Goin' Medusa on page, died free at young age
All divine-inspired reasons for you to remember my name

[Verse 4 - QUAY]
It's spiritual: The sermon of sixteen bars
Instrumental, beat ain't it?
Lyri-cism slayed it
All them other rappers fainted
Hot, and bothered, by the brother's silver tongue
What he done?
Nothin' but layin' soul on wax, tracks melt
Apple cinnamon candles, handle
This juggernaut grippin' knots, screamin' "Black Wall Street" to the grave
Cookin' lyrics he done slaved
Like a 1955 housewife
Unappreciated, but related to lovin' hip hop
Hold it in, fuck that!
I fixed dinner, throw that!
Frying pan to the head--- hell yeah, my nigga hold dat!
It's forever Atlas; no need for mythology
Holdin' up the state with god body
Puttin' my DNA on the beat
Now, how dare a rapper said he did it like me?
Put them brain cells to labor for the paper
Maybe later they'll realize the feats he complete
Maybe when they six feet
Enlightened by the heights of heaven
God can give 'em the divine eyes of I
Damn!... I just lied
'Cause it's QUAY: the greatness in time
Blow minds, yo' mind's mine
By the time you know mine's, it's past time
And all these lines scream, "get 'em!"
I got 'em! ... Don't go nowhere, I stop 'em!
Where they at? ...I lost 'em
They playin' dead--- possum
Ain't no problems, 'cause I just solved 'em!

[Verse 5 - Quentino]
Now pay attention to the signs!
The resurrection of your intersession might remain an inception
Go to sleep until you hear the stomp of my feet, don't even retreat
Be able to accept defeat from the Titan of Greece
Or was it Rome? I wanna go home
And all of a sudden I'm realizin' that most of these terms are "so long!"
You stay on track, you'll run into the fact that I am the nigga
Who would pull on the trigger without a ticker!
Part of the six kings you see
But instead I come through with no envy
Almost like these people end up bringin' in them entrees
I'm into the club, you just hate on them dubs
You hate my own swag, well y'know what? That's my town
Full of them haters, well I'm not one of them
'Cause I come right through, and I'm about to lose it
'Bout to lose my mind, as always, with the crew
People better not stare,
Or be ready for that futuristic flare---that solar flare!
Attack ya like a nuclear bomb, or atomic bomb
About ready to lose it like people of drama
You'll end up thinkin' of Guya
You'll end up thinkin' of Mayans
You'll end up thinkin' that niggas are gonna just break down
But instead I end up goin' around and end up knockin' ya'll niggas down
I don't really give a fuck
Yeah nigga, what you down with? Not a damn thing.
This is my crew, P.o.P., what it do, nigga?
Straight off of that shit, niggas are wonderin' about my shit
Well y'know what? Shit, I just gave up. Fuck it! I'm done with this, bitch!

[Outro - Kreative Tendencies]
Shout-out to the entire Publish or Perish crew!!!