Lyrics:
a ratchet, what's good?
It happens in Compton, happens in Queens, happened to Big L
Happened to Chinx and 2Pac in that passenger's seat
Sometimes it's
can hear they already unconscious
I got this, on the top list, fake
I'm not this
Temple of Hip-Hop, rising to the top, kid
Every verse is a persecution
good?
It happens in Compton, happens in Queens, happened to Big L
Happened to Chinx and 2Pac in that passenger's seat
Sometimes it's internal, happens
That's when the profit is controlled
I seen this before with 2Pac and this is old
Sony recycled Michael with that album and it sold
'Cause fans are really
was Diddy
When it came to the music then she got real picky
From New York, but preferred 2Pac over Biggie
No disrespect to Ms. Wallace, but she liked
in peace 2pac from master p, doin' 2-11s
187 khadafi, murder
Puttin' niggas in six foot motherfuckin' gurters
If you fuck with this tru clique
Nigga
whatcha got
'Cause I'm guaranteed to make you rock
I said one, two, three, four
Tell me, Wonder Mike, what are you waiting for?
Said-a hip hop
whatcha got
'Cause I'm guaranteed to make you rock
I said one, two, three, four
Tell me, Wonder Mike, what are you waiting for?
Said-a hip hop
you rock
I said one, two, three, four, tell me, Wonder Mike
What are you waiting for?
I said a hip hop,
The hippie to the hippie
The hip hip
the tectonic plate shift I
Create is so great
That by the time you reach me the earthquakes
The booth was my birthplace
I'm used to the static
They say I got
you rock
I said one, two, three, four, tell me, Wonder Mike
What are you waiting for?
I said a hip hop,
The hippie to the hippie
The hip hip
the best hype you
Can get in hip-hop or black
Music so I knew that
If I was going to say what I said
It had to be in concert with one of the most
Brilliant
Ladies Stnad A Chance?
I'm Cowboy And I'm Shockin The House
Ya Say, Ya Say 1, 2, 1 more is 3
And Melle Mel, Come On, Whatcha Got For Me?
To The Hip Hop
lived in the ghetto)...or the projects
But I wear my Tim boots and Hi-Tecs, and I wrecks havoc
And if you try to play me I won't have it
this known from the door
I make niggaz walk like ball four
Y'all score games down the block
For me it's hip hop around the clock
Critical, I'm bound
tapes
I got a Panasonic with a set of fifteens
Black with the silver grill, shining, lookin' clean
Glove on my right hand, face on lean
I keep it by
a place that
You and I call the hood
They be up to no good
My ghetto got beats and bootys
And cars and ghetto stars
9x9 with steel bars
Pigs roll around
There's a question that people have been asking for eternity...is there a Heaven, and if so, what's it like?
Will I see my homie Chris there?
He got
souls, rest in peace
That was 1996, we back in the mix
I guess they thought that we'd gon' quit but we got love for this shit
But everything started
out of hip hop
Hi Señor 'stop the crap
Stop the cap
I'm perplexed
I'm obsessed
With what Is next
When they act like it's not my home
So then they phone
is man shit a hip hop trip
On that aggressive tip but rap got pussy whipped
Got out psyched down on that turnpike
I knew this Philly who just
ghetto heroes in Heaven, it's like you right here and never passed
You just transcend, I know I'm goin' see you again
Hoping I reach the world leaders
ever say I don't know how to spit
We gonna hit a new lick are ya ready?
On the radio is bumping rock steady by the whispers bitch I said a
New lick are
I'm causing catastrophe evacuating MC's
I'm the radioactivity that won't leave
Fuck the radio but keep the boom box
I'm the renaissance of Hip-Hop
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