Everywhere I turn I hear yall – yak yak
braggin bout having either this or that;
I think it’s time – that we keep it real
in HIP HOP only thing that gains respect are skillz;
see anybody with money can buy that watch
anybody with money can get a girl that hot;
anybody with money can ‘clean cruise’ the block
but only real emcees can rock anybody’s spot;
how many of you clowns, got a serious freestyle
that can lyrically beatdown, any Joe Moe that comes around;
if your answer is no – you’re just a rapper, a pretender
Hip Hop is lyrical warfare – freestylin’s the ammunition:
and we play this game, by the ‘hood rules’ you preach
if you ain’t strap with some heat-keep your pop music off these streets:
so go ahead keep it ‘gangsta’ for the screaming teens and the charts
but watch where you tread if you not ARMED FOR WAR!;
I don’t do beef, my foes don’t last that long
all I need is 30 seconds, yall need a whole song;
studio production, and a lot of media hype
why is Hip Hop taking lives, cause yall can’t mic fight;
can’t state your case – standing face to face
non of yall rabbits, want part in this turtle race;
fist fights and busting shells, are all tell-a-tales
that yall are manufactored acts, without lyrical skillz;
3 out of 4 that goes platinum should be nominated
not for Billboards, AMAs, or Grammys – but for perpetrating;
for those uneducated, that means you straight acting
like a po pimp with no hoes – always claiming how he’s macking;
there is no OLD SCHOOL, that school was true
yall got gangs and clicks, they had djs and crews;
they gave us ‘Paid in Full’, ‘The Message’, ‘Criminal Minded’
all yall got is smoking dope, and the rims you’re riding;
it’s like the fans been blinded, real emcees are hiding,
we passed the torch, now we must REIGNITE it;
no need for me to dress, in a bullet proof vest
a shell to my chest, shows you’re lyrically no contest;
this is a full court press, all my spitters STAND UP
they got the media and money, we got the beats and our trunks;
so let’s take it back to the day, when big boxes bumped our rhymes
and we’ll reclaim this thing one block at a time;
clearly mark the line, that shows the divide
between commercial art, and real lyrical rhymes;
promote our own shows and video without the guns, bling, or booty,
teach a new generation what’s really HIP HOP MUSIC;
cause anyone can hollar gangsta, there’s really nothing to do this
but can you construct a rhyme that mends a broken spirit;
dry a tear or inspire a poor child to dream
if not then you have no idea what HIP HOP means;
