This is an homage to The Notorious B.I.G.'s classic track "Gimme The Loot" set in medieval times. Ready To Die is my favorite hip hop album of all time and I wanted to prove how versatile and brilliant Biggie's raps and storytelling abilities were. The lyrics are translated into Medieval slang as best I could manage. I made this for fun - hope you like it. Peace. Be sure to check out my "Juicy" parody as told by an elderly man... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fSxIDJ3T48 And my "Warning" parody set in 1920's Mobster slang... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZJBTuDN_Ic The video clips are from various episodes of The Adventures of Robin Hood and a Robin Hood film from 1922. Giveth Thy Lute All you serfs better know My chap George left a bow and a quiver at my home Didnt pay taxes to salute the Throne One to three hell be out in 1393 Im ready to get this coinage, G you with thee? Absolutely right, my satchels looking kind of tight And Im vexed, my lord get the weapon chest No need for that, just grab your feathered cap The first saccus thats fat, thy claymores in his back Word is truth, I will shank him, dont mime your moves Treat it like fencing, parry/salute parry/salute Baron, you need not to explain this Ive been pilfering these peasants since the plague hit With the same flail and the same paddle blade Shank to and fro until Ive stoned another knave Tis my code, stewards even try to en garde Have his mother singing like a baaaard Yes, Monk, love your royal attitude Cause a fop that speak rubbish Tis a fop Ill gork n spew And spill guts, with the mace Im swingin Scalds on the palms from the cauldron spillin Then I gallop cross the moors and Im roguing wenches too Up the arrow loops and skirt hoops I dont give a groat if your dress shorn Give me the coronets and the number one male baby born Im flogging fops like Charlemagne joy is pain When its time to supper feed, its grog or mead Cause thine dowry didnt giveth thee daub So for the barm and bullace, I leave beggars in the barrow Word to vassal, Im Man-at-arms Crazier than a fief of mad castle guards When they breach thy vaults, heathens fly from catapults Im all that and a jesters hat, where the shillings at? Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Big up, big up, tis a stick up, stick up And Im spearing squires quicker than a hiccup Dont let my double axe up in your loin and cod piece Order of gold fleece, neither pax nor peace Youre talking to the thievery sokeman Step into your pyre with thy blood on my robe Dont be a boob and get slashed over being resistant Cause when I pierce chains the knights need assistance Goodness, gracious, the taxes Where the marks at? Where the larks at? Villein, hark that before you get your head dropped From the hood fop, bloody guillotine-chop And my main Yeoman has an itchy sword grip One on his back, double-edged with a hilt Feudal sheriffs better strip, yeah, justice, peel Before you find out how broadswords feel From the war hammer, putting all the holes in your scabbard The shilling grabber, feudal stewards dont have better Crescent circlets, tiaras and brooches Im pilfering goblets, Henry V couldnt stop it Man, Marshals come through Im taking regal crest rings too Wenches defrock for their earrings and buckles And when I turn her and hurt her it's ending up in murder And if shes a witch then, burn her, burn her, burn her So go get your bailiff, wench, he can get robbed too Tell him serfs took it, what decree's he gonna doom? I pray apologetic or I will have to set it And if I set it, the village idiot wont forget it Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Knight listen, gallivantings wearing thy feet But Maiden looks sweet (wheres that?) inside the castle keep Servi, grab him by the throat, toss him in the moat And if he bellows mercy, make haste or its the halimote Hold up, hes got a princess in the carriage car Silk, jewels and gown-dressed, she thinks shes the Queen of all Oh, allow me to grab her, then Im gonna stab her hit her with the rapier Be still, Earl let me do that Just grab the steads mane and gallop round the leet Her heinous acts scared, cesspit shell sleep (My liege, the law!) be still, friend, they will not approach us men Just want to tax again (So whys their gaze yet affixed?) I guess to ride the River Styx Returned from a bludgeon, not trying to see another dungeon Oh, great, they hue and crying my face You best ride quick, we start equestrian chase So latch up your boots for Im about to shoot A true rogue minstrel going out for the lute