Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Dis Generation’ by A Tribe Called Quest. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A Tribe Called Quest or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Handle rocks with the capital G, ball on the beat
Status, Chris Paul and John Wall in the league
Grabbin’ mics till the knuckles would bleed, ’cause I believe
The potent that I’m quoting will have you geeked like speed
If rationale is naturale or a weave
It’s all edges and peas
Settin’ press, we on a permanent steez
I’m in a world where my princess is Leia
And she feeling my Vader
And my lure grows greater and greater
Chem trails droppin’ poisonous vapors
Have you shaking like gator
Been trill, nigga, process the data
Blu-ray wave file or a beta, I’ll DVR for later
Kappo Massa with my G to my waiter
You can’t define us, XY us, or Z us, you generational
Elitists have your chi in virtual think pieces
See, these written words are poetical science, brains defiant
Thoughts heavy, baby, they’re a major appliance
Leave a dent when dropping the flyness, fluent giant
Dude’s nice, he tight, screwed in with some pliers
Cool with some buyers, yeah, nigga, cool with some growers
Never no tattletales, only I don’t knowers
We a show me generation, show us what you gon’ show us
So listen, mami, see we could collude with a boing
Mouthpiece like Goins, with a jubilant noise
Dude’s rude and as useless as coins, shoot ’em boys
Versed in, rehearsed in the soothing of loins
Talk to Joey, Earl, Kendrick, and Cole, gatekeepers of flow
They are extensions of instinctual soul
It’s the highest in commodity grade and you could get it today
Dis generation
Rules di nation
One hiting reading pages of Poe
Telly is low, cuddle bunny ready to go
Day of the dead, bury all the zombies instead
And it’s just your aftermath, Busta cutting your dreads
Bruce Lee’in niggas, while y’all niggas UFC
Smoke tree on niggas, sizzle out your USB
Surge pricin’ on these Ubers, I’mma get me a cab
Yo, where Jarobi at?
Imbibing on impeccable grass
I be in NYC waiting for that law to pass
Past shit been waiting for a Jet’s title since last
Richard Todd, Todd Bowles, gang green on that ass
Magic Mike on the mic, David Blaine, Douglas Henning
In the church of Busta Rhymes it’s my sermon you’re getting
Horizontal spittin’, I’m the exorcist of your writtens
Don’t interrupt me, nigga
Sorry, that’s a sin unforgiven
Like how we be skipping on beats like cooking crack in the kitchen
Wait
Just spit the package, dry it bag up the wet
This mad city’s not a game, easy, quiet on set
Phife, student of the past, trailblazing a daze
Not acknowledging a trend or swept up in a phase
We still the highest of commodity grade, and you could get it get it get it get it today
Dis generation
Rules di nation
This is our generation, generation, ah
This our generation, generation, ah
This our generation, generation, ah