Lyrics:
-HOP, HIP-HOP
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As I live
You're not forgotten
Apples don't fall
Far from trees
They're just rotten
The theory of music is appreciated
The tension
need a cape (cape)
Lil' mama's head supreme (straight up)
But I'm still rockin' this Bape (on God)
All I know is two guns, nigga
If you a plate, you
Crime pays I been up for 9 days
Designated crime days
Then we split it 9 ways
Cash rules
I’m a fucking cash mule
If the bitch is bad cool
Then she
Doin' what comes naturally
You don't have to go to a private school
Not to pick up a penny by a stubborn mule
You don't have to have a professor's
Hurricanes, Pussy Poppers, Murder Scenes
Hey what we drank? That Lean
Cause That Liquor Get A nigga Ass Beat?
Hey what we smoke? That piffin
Presidential Shit
Hip-hop is the way we live
Welcome to hip-hop culture
We stay hot like Tulsa
Knowledge Reigns Supreme, followed by a number one
These rappers they do
anybody can get it
The hard part is keepin' it, motherfucker
What you want you? A house or a car?
Forty acres and a mule, a piano, a guitar?
Anythin',
keeps coming up day after day
Hear that baby cry at the top of her lungs
Trying to tell the world what the hell she wants
The years go by and the older
then stopped for
A variety of reasons, it is hard to
Parse what might be going on in JLo's
Mind by looking at her face
But when Nicki launched into her
Fuck with me, you know what it is
I shoot you arm, leg, leg, arm, head
The heater burnin' bruises on my hip this year
I shoot your arm, leg,
Fuck with me, you know what it is
I shoot you arm, leg, leg, arm, head
The heater burnin' bruises on my hip this year
I shoot your arm, leg,
don't know what direction it's gonna go in
Or at what speed it's gonna go in
This project was like, all over the place
If you listen to Cruisin' By
hot then I jot it down
OG smoke it by the pound
Your girl loving on me when you're not around
Yeah I was faded off a Moscow mule
Everybody ripping
Uh dear Mr. President what's happenin'? I'm writin' you because
Shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right
Hip hop is the father
I'm the son of the rap
That's derived from the underground
Hip hop is the sun that shined
And made way for the rhymes
Yo Shock man people be comin up to me sayin
"Yo man, what's up with the Underground, man?
You guys old school, new school, R&B or hip-hop?"
What
Will the 90's be another decade of apathy? are you just going
Sit by and watch things get worse and worse? no!
The rich will stop at nothing
Whether it be: hip-hop, jazz or poetry
Come and groove with me
I want to groove with you, I hope you want to groove with me
This is how we get down you see,
We gon' be alright we gon' be alright
Do you hear me
Do you feel me? We gon' be alright
What you want, you a house, you a car?
Acres and a mule
a philostopher 'n see what he says!
Greggery stops at a gas station
And makes a mysterious phone
Is this the old loft
With the paint peelin' off it
By
they'd be together at the end
Lonely is as lonely does
We both want what we each think is good for us
I envy those who never fall in love
Hip hip hooray
brothers to write pslams
Lovers to write songs
By dawn by gones will be by gones
Eating prawns getting tight with the pythons
Life go on but
If the light is
in drive by
Messages fly high
Bitch
Young Nigga from the hood
If you got to problem, what's good
Hip Hop ain't dead
Till I dump a whole clip thru ya
off the backboard
Fuck a Grammy, that is not what I come back for
I came for hip-hop, niggas forgot to lock the back door
Live by the code, die by
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