BET - 2006 BET Hip Hop Awards - Cypher 1 (feat. Lupe Fiasco, Papoose, Styles P) lyrics
Lupe Fiasco [Wasalu Muhammad Jaco] Chicago, Illinois, U.S. 🇺🇸
[BET - 2006 BET Hip Hop Awards - Cypher 1 feat. Lupe Fiasco, Papoose, Styles P lyrics]
Over one hundred soldiers died this
Month I drop info
Out of a hundred, the majority was negroes
George Bush is on a roll like a round hero
They still findin' human remains
At Ground Zero they found 'em in the sewers
Yeah, it shows, aw, man yo
I guess that's why they call it a manhole
When we say BET, we ain't tryna spell bet
Black Entertainment, Papoose is the best
Nacirema, wait 'til my album drop
He hop up, I clap him in his hip
You can call it Hip-Hop
Rappers be actin' like they tougher
Than they really is
So I sit 'em in wheelchairs
Like Jada Pinkett kids
You was puttin' your sneakers
On the wrong feet
When Papoose was reppin' for the streets
Magnifique
You might as well face your defeat, look
Partner i had you lookin' at defeat
Like a foot doctor
Uh
They say the game has the belly of a beast
Blunts for fingers and hollow tips for teeth
Wiretaps for ears Nike Airs for feet
Blasphemy for prayers the system for a heart
Rap music for beats heroin for the son
And he's married to the streets
Crack pipes for lungs and he never sleeps
Just spies with dice in his eyes
Love life, 'cause he like when it dies
With baking soda soul he cough up pleasure
Clothes made out of dollar bills
That he sewed together
He knows he's clever, jail is his house
All the liquor that pours out and
Goes right in his mouth
Rides around on a stray
Bullet with prostitutes
Pimps, dope dealers and killers tied
To it to pull it
TV in his head, strippers slide down his legs
And he known to ride around with the Feds
He's out there, out there, out
There, out there, out there, son
Don't call me Ghost no more
Call me The Phantom real brothers love him
Street brothers understand him
This is for the man with
His hand on his Cannon right at this moment
I know we need atonement
But Malcolm is dead, and Martin is dead
The gun is the barber
Let me know who want a part in their head
And I'm back to the clip, filled the top
Ill grill with a bop
Police comin' through, kids steal a rock
I don't give an F like I
Wanna die cause I'm gon' die
You too, figure, don't boo who, figure
Wanna play the game, find out whose who
Figure
After you do that, find out whose true
Figure
Lot of brothers died over BS, nonsense
School of hard-knocks
No parent teacher conference
Gotta learn the rules real fast, move fast
Stand up and mash or they know that you ass
Yeah, yeah before there was radio
Before there were videos
Before there were magazines
Point the cameras down
This what it was the cypher
Three hundred-and-sixty degrees, the cypher
Show y'all cats how to rhyme, man
Month I drop info
Out of a hundred, the majority was negroes
George Bush is on a roll like a round hero
They still findin' human remains
At Ground Zero they found 'em in the sewers
Yeah, it shows, aw, man yo
I guess that's why they call it a manhole
When we say BET, we ain't tryna spell bet
Black Entertainment, Papoose is the best
Nacirema, wait 'til my album drop
He hop up, I clap him in his hip
You can call it Hip-Hop
Rappers be actin' like they tougher
Than they really is
So I sit 'em in wheelchairs
Like Jada Pinkett kids
You was puttin' your sneakers
On the wrong feet
When Papoose was reppin' for the streets
Magnifique
You might as well face your defeat, look
Partner i had you lookin' at defeat
Like a foot doctor
Uh
They say the game has the belly of a beast
Blunts for fingers and hollow tips for teeth
Wiretaps for ears Nike Airs for feet
Blasphemy for prayers the system for a heart
Rap music for beats heroin for the son
And he's married to the streets
Crack pipes for lungs and he never sleeps
Just spies with dice in his eyes
Love life, 'cause he like when it dies
With baking soda soul he cough up pleasure
Clothes made out of dollar bills
That he sewed together
He knows he's clever, jail is his house
All the liquor that pours out and
Goes right in his mouth
Rides around on a stray
Bullet with prostitutes
Pimps, dope dealers and killers tied
To it to pull it
TV in his head, strippers slide down his legs
And he known to ride around with the Feds
He's out there, out there, out
There, out there, out there, son
Don't call me Ghost no more
Call me The Phantom real brothers love him
Street brothers understand him
This is for the man with
His hand on his Cannon right at this moment
I know we need atonement
But Malcolm is dead, and Martin is dead
The gun is the barber
Let me know who want a part in their head
And I'm back to the clip, filled the top
Ill grill with a bop
Police comin' through, kids steal a rock
I don't give an F like I
Wanna die cause I'm gon' die
You too, figure, don't boo who, figure
Wanna play the game, find out whose who
Figure
After you do that, find out whose true
Figure
Lot of brothers died over BS, nonsense
School of hard-knocks
No parent teacher conference
Gotta learn the rules real fast, move fast
Stand up and mash or they know that you ass
Yeah, yeah before there was radio
Before there were videos
Before there were magazines
Point the cameras down
This what it was the cypher
Three hundred-and-sixty degrees, the cypher
Show y'all cats how to rhyme, man