Real Hip Hop - DJ Kay Slay et Papoose et Vado et Ransom Paroles , lyrics

Paroles de Real Hip Hop de DJ Kay Slay, Papoose, Vado, Ransom

Real Hip Hop est une chanson de DJ Kay Slay, Papoose, Vado, Ransom pour laquelle les lyrics ont été ajoutés en avril 2014.

Les paroles de Real Hip Hop ont fait l'objet d'une relecture, cependant, il est possible qu'il y ait toujours des fautes. N'hésitez pas à prendre contact par mail.

Vous pouvez écouter la chanson de DJ Kay Slay, Papoose, Vado, Ransom avec la vidéo ci-dessous.

Yeah, everybody back up from behind the ropes
If you're not DJ or a rapper, get behind the rope
You don't understand, you got weed ?! No, he good
Co me ova here. Yo, next, shawty with them daisy duke thuxk
Let 'er thru! Stop blockin' the females
Get a seven for that modlex, son
Hell no, babe, exact, get up outta here
Aye, yo, stop pickin' the wire, you gon' make it come off the lamp post, man

I'm from the same hood as the MOP, same borrough as Biggie
Same block as Fab, same town as 50
Look at my hand, I tattered my whole city
On my right arm I got a bottle of Remy
My whole life, I always been skinny
But I ain't scared of you big niggas, I keep busy
Murderer like Ja-Rule-Black-Child,
I'm that fall' with the Mac like Thristen
I'm that imperialism, first materialism
Doctor Mellow Kayo with the yo rhythm
You be in everybody video, really don't listen
You ain't a gangsta, you just a video vixen
Untraceable murder, but the city don't miss 'em
A cock back sniper's gun with the serial missin'
This LL with this cango is stereo chillin'
The new book of Bhusta Rhymes with scenario written

[Refrain] (x2)
To the hip-hop, you don't stop
The real hip-hop, we won't stop

Got sirens, gun smoke from Glocks firin'
Dead bodies, cryn mothers, they child linin'
Red bally, fly brother without try me
Hold brick on the stove, we call it pop pillin'
Spit mean, I can't lose, the flow is scarecrow who still on the shelf like tamfoo
I don't even know what yo man do, I'm strapped like bamboo
You get washed in there like shampoo
Huh, I'm tryna mark at the game, slow down all my competitors
Profit the fame, far from the lane, skies guilted when it rain
I talk when I aim, the boss, like spurrin' with Bane
This cat here repeatin' my new goo
Mac black end, material Sun Wu
Stripes in the rim, I'm wearin' my new shoes
Silence the Mac-10, or you hear us the (pow pow)

[Refrain] (x2)
Feel the hip-hop, you don't stop
The real hip-hop, we won't stop

I've been a OG since I was in the dirt and the playpen
Now I'm seein' niggas gettin' hurt in the state pen
Duffle bag playn on niggas like amen,
Stayn a plate, then if you don't want me to break lens
Fresh off the porch, mah'fuckers get chased in
I'm only 6.2?, but get treated like 8.10?
A giant of a man, I bubble like the hood oaf
Fryn in the pan, might buck you like I'm O2
Iron in the hand, I'll thrust you like a low blow
Blow fightin' with the champ, caught you lying on the stand
Damn, it was all good till a week-ago
Till I came thru and made the speaker blow
Game changer, grown man, gang banger
Produce banner, game banner, same anger
So keep speakin', I guarantee that you keep leakin'
It's a fact, I'm bout to clean up their act when I street sweep 'em

Note : 1 étoile2 étoiles3 étoiles4 étoiles5 étoiles
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