|
Rasco - Hip Hop Essentials lyrics
Yeah Father Rasco you better act like you know Straight of the pitch the third mic gave a small pinch And ever since they've been waitin' on this twelve inch It's Peanut Butter Wolf Rasco anticipated Steppin' to mics will only get cracks obliterated Turn up these levels let me bless those that's feelin' this Run on this path and I'ma rip fools continuous This nonstop entourage rockin' camouflage Is quick to handle any nigga thinkin' sabotage Really, who in the hell is this big Willy? We'll run him down, rip his out and smack him silly My microphone filled with flames, takin' all names The first to tell 'em that this hip hop ain't all games I rock the planet, transatlantic, meanin' overseas Down with various, but this box don't come in threes Got EBF to the friz chillin' close range Pockets is flat, time to stack me some pocket change But ain't it strange how this hard work has paid off? Remember days when I was flat broke and laid off But gettin' fired only inspired the dope shit Now magazines on the scene tryin' to quote shit Given the wackest hip hop overblown props Styles is stolen better call up the damn cops Tell 'em to bring they paddy wagon, got a lot of folks Stand-up comedians is all set to crack jokes Gavel to gavel, brothers gettin' drug through the gravel A little buzz, yo, but my rhymes just didn't travel A gotta take it to the next, start cashin' checks I see you brothers perpertratin' in that rented Lex Tryin' to flex like you some type of big wheel I'm on the mic, niggaz just get they wigs peeled Still, I know these wack fools be lovin' it Place your bets and I bet Ras can double it Scratched Chorus(x2): "Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em." "Get behind the real rhymer." Some of you fools on the mic just bug me Sippin' on ???? niggaz talkin' 'bout his bubbly Yo' broke ass ain't never sipped on no Cristal Pulled no holes or even shot off a pistol The perpetratin' pulled the stick out for penetratin' Have you at home layin' flat, rehabilitatin' Exhilaration' all the time, gotta dish rhymes Runnin' the joint, runnin' point, gotta dish dimes But not sacks, rather drop tracks to black wax That type shit that be more hype than mad blacks Rush in yo' spot set to take things I never got Two or three albums to yo' credit but they wasn't hot Don't jock fools 'cuz you think that they be livin' cool In videos wit' these broke hoes and swimmin' pools Dancin' around on my set tryin' to catch wreck Smokin' on blunts, takin' forty hoes to the neck Blurry position, better turn off my television No time for niggaz bringin' all types of negatism The industry is just filled with these fake cats Runnin' around with cigars and fedora hats Fags in drag, brothers best check they manhood Rip out they lungs, so it just won't expand good 'Cuz I done had it with these phony rappin' freestyles Brothers be yappin' that they comin' out the penial The senile, you ain't never been in jail, black It be the Ras, give you more run than tailbacks Women be comin' out talkin' 'bout they cockbox Some of these brothers rock rhymes, others cockblock Chorus(x2) Yeah Father Rasco, solo tip Shout outs To my man EBF To my man Frizbee To my man Encore To the one Fanatik To my man Persevere To my man 50 Gs G-Love the Architect To my man PB Wolf To my man A-1 To the man Ranger Rick To my man Big Hav Stones Throw nine-six Prepare Bring it on |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Confessions by Usher |
 The Dangermen Sessions, Vol. 1 by Madness |
 Getaway by Reef |
 Memory Almost Full by Paul McCartney |
 Ghetto Classics by Jaheim |
