Текст песни Rakim - Hip Hop

The Archive: Live, Lost & Found
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Rakim
Альбом: The Archive: Live, Lost & Found
Длительность: 04:08
Рейтинг: 597
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Gragory

Текст:

Hip Hop Rakim That's what it is, uh huh Nick Wiz, turn my headphones up, man Uh, uh (Hook) Ayo, if you miss Hip-Hop, then stand up Reminisce when this drop, get amped up Any hit that's this hot is an anthem Do ya' dance, love, she need a hand, breh Lyricist that spit pop get stamped up Hit or miss, then flip-flop, them clam up They fearing this to hit blocks and slam clubs Put yo' hands up, here ya' man come (Verse 1) Its mister word renowned with the best verse One of the illest the streets, from the east to the west, heard Get greeted with ghetto gestures like "yessir" A pre-meditated killer for the way I stretch words Some of us love to flow 'til the club close And some in love with blow for the love of dough In it for fortune and fame, flamboyant for gurls They extorting the game, exploiting the hood Rappers ride for bread while the gossip spread It's only hot 'cause we ride, spotted cops with feds Plus, lots of heads go Pop instead That's the word on the block is, "Hip-Hop Is Dead" So consumers quit copping, rappers flip-flopping Artist pimped by they labels like a slave pick cotton Pop Charts killing underground Hip-Hopers While the world still looking for Ra like Bin Laden, let's go (Hook) Ayo, if you miss Hip-Hop, then stand up Reminisce when this drop, get amped up Any hit that's this hot is an anthem Do ya' dance, love, she need a hand, breh Lyricist that spit pop get stamped up Hit or miss, then flip-flop, them clam up They fearing this to hit blocks and slam clubs Put yo' hands up, here ya' man come (Verse 2) Me and my dude's the new cool in the game That Old-School feel with the New-School slang The boomerang with the true duke flame Shoot through yo' brain like smoking poom-shoong-pang Ghetto galactic, the next level and back shit Something like heroine, crack, mixed [ Rakim Lyrics are found on ] The combination of Mike and Lebron, the life of a don Yeah, just give the God the mic and it's on My brand new vision gives you aneurisms My fans'll listen, see my words like its camera's in 'em We just anxious to bust like a new fo'-pound So, the hood is reacquainted to the New York sound Every verse is a mountain of proof, a man of my words Even on the curb when I'm out of the booth My style's the truth, unlimited amounts to produce And my flow still tight when I'm about to get loose, let's go (Hook) Ayo, if you miss Hip-Hop, then stand up Reminisce when this drop, get amped up Any hit that's this hot is an anthem Do ya' dance, love, she need a hand, breh Lyricist that spit pop get stamped up Hit or miss, then flip-flop, them clam up They fearing this to hit blocks and slam clubs Put yo' hands up, here ya' man come (Verse 3) The boogey-down, the buck-town mic flavor I'm in yo' hoods like neighbors Operation shut down, 0-60 like "later" It's rider, up-town, high-top, nike lacer In the gut of the beast where they don't dwell The gut of the streets but they don't sell I still hold mics and stay so real My flow tight with mo' sight's than AOL I change climates like a plane pilot 'Cause hurricanes and rain violent Crack yo' skull, snatch yo' brain out it, uou out ya' mind if it ain't talent And keep it out yo' rhymes if you ain't bought it Raps tsunami, the track's behind me Cats that try me, the raps too grimey I rap a mami in black Armani Clap with a body and tap punani (Hook) Ayo, if you miss Hip-Hop, then stand up Reminisce when this drop, get amped up Any hit that's this hot is an anthem Do ya' dance, love, she need a hand, breh Lyricist that spit pop get stamped up Hit or miss, then flip-f
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