Luck and Lana Kill The Computer, Chino XL, Ras Kass - Type lyrics

Tommy, this for Kelani
Luck & Lana Kill the Computer what up Ras?
Chino

(Y'all remember? Uh)
I remember when we used to go to seminars
Peddling our demos outta rentals
Spittin' hella bars
Met Kelani he was dancin' took us to the Cars
Carson if you really ain't knowin'
It could get you lost
Just some Southern Califorina
Dope rhyme sangers
Mixed in with backpackers
Taggers & gangbangers
Met Snoop one time out at Rap Pages
Back before Deep Cover dropped
Life is outrageous
It's stages to this rap shit real spit
Rappers now days ain't had to pay them dues
Bitch (nah)
Now that don't take away from
How them doots spit
But really when we talkin' bout that true
This be that true sick

Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type
Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type

If you love rap then be a
Fan before being the man
Real passion put into plan
He just a flash in the pan
They get hot online, three-sixty deal signed
Have success with one single
Lose they rabid-ass mind
And bye (bye) new nigga next summer
Half bitin', half eatin'
Ghostwritin' it's no wonder
Y'all can't survive in the deep water
I'll hit your ass like a mako shark
Turn it into pink water
New Music Seminar, N-Y-C
Jay-Z was outside destroyin'
Cyphers in nine-three
Before the billionaire
There was Hawaiian Sophie
Supernat was inside winnin' a
Rap battle trophy the point is
They earned that right to hold that mic
Clowns think you deserve fame overnight
That's why I'm laughin', I remember The Gavin
Most of y'all accidents
Should have never happened

Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type
Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type

(Take 'em back)
Rick Rubin signed me at sixteen with a
Dream and a bookbag of lyrics
Hopin' I could be like LL
Or some other kindred spirit (yeah)
My contributions pushed this culture farther
Wrote smarter
The syllable harder than artists that grew
Up impoverished without a father (shhh)
But rap now is embarrassin'
And average at best
But I'm arrogant about the era that
I'm married to and blessed
To be one of the characters
That parented verse progress
The lyric labyrinth it's albino how
You pale in comparison
The subject matters and patterns
Is spattered and passed (yeah)
It's definitely missed you're
A deafening mess
I bring death superior, you hear it
Breath control like my lungs are possessed
(yes) wasn't just a dream we had kings like
Craig G and Big Daddy Kane
Admiring Kool G Rap and his vast brain
Back in the day, you wack
You got your ass sprained
Couldn't be numbed by aspirin I spitted acid
Rain put you in a casket frame
I'm related to the Taíno and African slaves
That wilded out crazy when the master came
You bastards wouldn't have lasted a day
(it's crazy) i've been embraced by LA since
Since Aceyalone the great
Took me to the Good Life in ninety-one
I spit an hour straight
See I'm the titan, tightest type
That could out-type a typist when I write
Creating a violent virus whenever I'm mic'd
(every time)
Personally I find it ironic that
The flows I vomit
From eighty-nine as a child are better
Than y'all modern rhymin' now
Plastic rhymin' style, fight for the crown
They been biter proud
Purest, not Niagra bound
Made for the tourist and watered down (yeah)

Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type
Shoot ya shot little homie, get ya game tight
Yeah we got the same mics
But we ain't the same type
Nah, we ain't the same type
Nope, we ain't the same type