Lyrics:
black America my CD drop
In 2002 to change hip hop
Most folks shake ya bones
I'm talking cyclones and Terrordomes like Mel Gibson's
My heat will cook
pack heat
Got turned out early by them scandalous freaks
Addicted to crime so I stay in the mix
With a love for hoochie chicks and pulling jewelry
a hip hop state of mind
Stay on ya grind leave all ya worries behind
Just let the beat move ya
Music is like medicine to the soul
So everybody move ya
now, I wanna pack my shit up
Move back to Kansas, now tap three times.
And hey, they say hip hop's changed
Why? cause you're listening the Kristoff
back up back up
This is verbaTIM Hip hop raised him
cm pm spitting out straight gems
You think you can take him
Your chances are this slim
Knowledge
hangin out the drake look like gorilla nuts
You cant get this shit cause its one of one
My nigga jumped off and caught a body that boy one and done
Bad
a nigga can't never
enjoy this thing called life
Motherfucker thought he was going to get me
My dawg was posted with the rife
Mix up the lean
Nigga pass
for ARP
Pop up out that cut, aye that lil' shh, he hop right in that seat
Free lil' twin, he get busy, know what happened on that backstreet
Been had
false news, and lies in the media
Don’t be hypnotize by the lies that they feeding ya
It’s so pathetic but some still don’t get the message
Don’t shoot
by the end of the night you get put in the sky (Put in the sky)
Fuck with the guys (Do you wanna die?)
She loving the vibe (Ooh ooh)
She loving
Hello, what's happenin?
This Snoop Dogg.
What you doin?
Oh serious, check this out.
Nigga fittin to come through there.
So um, leave that back
has a cause and effect
But I first test the mic with the 1-2 check
The hip-hop world made the Juice Crew orphans
Gained our respect sealin' up much
at the same club in the same town every damn night
I am not making Hip-Hop for the Hip-Hop awards show or the 'Gram likes
'Cause I
Catfish Billy
getting money
Smoking L's by the hundreds
We got blow, we got molly
We got blood on the money, dedicated to the money
Killing niggas for the money,
realist niggas
You Fuckin with some killas you fuckin with the mutha fuckin realist niggas
[Ice Cube:]
Dirty Mutha fuckas tryina clean hip-hop, but it
want to jump, jump
Get'cha make ya pump, Paul
Still gon' miss ya bump, bump
Off a nigga fakin'
Goin' to a richin'
Bitches turn to shaken
Mafioso rule by
niggaz flow dope but whats the contENT
Flossing bout the whip
Ig likes and tik tok clips
This hip-hop shit
Son it starter in the bricks
But they forget
I want a baby after l get cash
Man thus my word , l'm lit by the way
Speakers blasting like nigga bring a hit, bring a hit yee
Shawty be calling
hop
Goin' out to the hardcore hip hop
Of course we don't flip flop
If you don't know me by now, I doubt you'll ever know me
I never won a GRAMMY,
hop
Goin' out to the hardcore hip hop
Of course we don't flip flop
If you don't know me by now, I doubt you'll ever know me
I never won a GRAMMY,
ever trip
Felony bitch keep a gun on her hip
look at me funny she killing a bitch
Skeletons round me I feel like a witch
Keep using your logic get caught
of its straight blasphemy
The local art scene never recognizes rapping
See me out in public like how’s your little rap thing
Play it in the bars and clubs
Makin' rats flee, hardcore - and that's me!!
The baddest soloist in hip-hop history
L-L-C-to-the-O-to-the-O-L-J, so what'cha want to know?
Throw ya in
just-I just found out rats could use they lips
I got, I got, I got me a thirty round clip
I got one in the head, thirty one rounds on my hip
Aye, okay,
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