I want to give y'all a little announcement man
For the last year there's been a lot of music comin out
The shit been weak, knowhatI'msayin?
A lot of niggas trying to take hip-hop
And make that shit R&B, rap and bullshit yaknowhatI'msayin?
Or make that shit funk
Fuck that, this is MCin right here, this is hip-hopAnd like the Wu we bring it to you in the purest form
We reside far away from the norms
Spawn from the big catch, big bang, big breaks
Fetch pads and pens, even with the pencil
Rap labels studied us, flooded us with stencil
That's tinseltown, murder your display
And we stay flying even with the terrorists' trying
This to that town, monitor the pat down
Searching for controlled substance with sustenance
We inventors of the drug, ever since
Day-glo covers, broke pots, green balloons
The black shirt saying stakes, elevated noon
AOI, grind, you hear it,
Understand we steer it,
Some choose to veer it off the course
The main source missing
You've paid no dues, you've earned no pension
Learn the rules! You can either be the pimp
Or the pimped out tools
Wack niggas need not forget!
Stop running up on niggas with
All that wack shit
(Word up man)
Talkin' bout you emcee
You ain't no emcee......Like me
I bake works of art
While labels worry 'bout artwork
Or top of the chart perks
You need to insert a lot more of that
Original tier, that you can't manage
Just causes damage so just go, get away from here!
You're fuckin' the game up
Too low to aim up so just go, get away from here!
And some'll believe that they're leaders
Young fella you're a two liter
Simply waterway drowning out the source
This lesson is aligned with an underground cause
So sharpen your paper mate, my number twos'll make the beacon shine
And you *sound effects*
The fine lining is detail, the garment is retail
But I don't buy rap or excuses
The code used to be an unspoken device
But since that's gone you see what rap produces
(Y'knahmsayin'?)
The one on one, two on twos
Assemble in the center of squares like statues (Word up!)
Understand I just do this I don't have to
(Y'knahmsayin' this is hip-hop right here!)
(Y'knahmsayin' this is lyrics!)
But you wouldn't know that feeling if it slapped you
Like new credit, the blood work's indebted
Microphone donor, two pints of get right
I got my cardio up my nigga
Don't give a damn about a party
I do it for the body
Upchuck your mandibles, the scrambler's back
Since the two inch tape how ample is that?
Like furry dice hanging off the mirror
Your position is concerning my vision
These objects seem to be closer than they appear
And they could never catch us their directions don't match up
Just go, get away from here!
You're jamming the lane up
Messing the game up,
Just go, get away from here!
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.