Talib Kweli, Jean Grae, Styles P - RIP lyrics
[Talib Kweli, Jean Grae, Styles P - RIP lyrics]
Bet you it ain't a saga
Me, I'm a slinger you a singer like Lady Gaga
I could see through you 'bout
As clear as Ciroc Vodka
Knock out your teeth with the
Back of the mic proper
I don't give a fuck about a chopper
Leave you in the doctor IPod
Filled with Big Poppa
Make sixteens I call Oscars for actors
Get in your neck and
Your back like chiropractors
I'm so nice I could give you a fact backwards
"Out hardest the is Ghost"
Keep your kids close
Sick when I was nine years old
Ask my kinfolk
My people been broke, a couple been rich
If rap was jail, I'd be
Running the whole pen, bitch
Ghost, Talib and Jean Grae x-Men of hip hop
And still rock harder than Green Day
Classic like vinyl but let the machines spray
Come on peel a bill off the knot
In ya pocket be a super star at the bar
We 'bout to lock it down
Got green in the black sacks of chocolate
Stop it
Before you say something that's out of pocket
Rock, rock, drop it in the pocket
Rock, rock, drop it in the pocket
Rock, rock, drop it in the pocket
Rock, rock, drop it in the pocket
(Get your rock out of my pocket, nigga)
No it's notlike Charlie Brown who got a ROCK!
In his pocket trick or treating
I mean I'm a medium
For leaking heat, a freaking genie
Jean's a genius you idiots, I'm mean to you
Sweetie and I'm a queen
I don't swing open like Lamborghini
Doors do - whores do my job is to floor you
Block you and ignore you
Pop you like a blocked call
I'm like Rockmore
You watching me like Rockwell's pop
Song just popped on
(Your lockjaw's a good thing) I'm glad
I put the hammer to it
My handlers will handle this
(Ma'am, she didn't do it)
Yeah, what they said
Don't want no arraignments rocking round
That would be worse than
K-Fed doing "PopoZao"
Right in my momma's house with
His little rocket out
Jesus! Wet my fingers and just stick
'em in the socket now (Please)
I'd rather be dead than watch wack shit
Color me gone, fill in the dirt
Tell 'em I kicked ten buckets
And it's all your fault, I'm rotting
Shouldn'ta done that, lied about rocking
Huh, it's all your fault I'm rotting
You shouldn'ta done that, lied about rocking
What is it? what
Is you tryin to lose your life?
Ancient wisdom like Druids but I'm
Foolish on the mic flow the truest
Undisputed cause I do it how I like
It's the crack so the fiends' lips
Is bluish from the pipe
Nice try, you ain't fly
You lying on the ProTools
Yeah, your vocals mighta flew but
You local like Q applying these old rules to
New dudes don't work
Even though they softer than yogurt
And covert if you don't work you don't eat
You fuck around and get higher
Than a nosebleed seat, try to compete
Ya done beat yourself before ya even started
E'rybody knows you don't go full retarded
Bogus artists rock the stage
You going off the page and making no sense
The way I do these rappers so
Ugly the flow is grotesque
Your flow is Kotex, it's no contest
You a foe, unidentified flying object