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JUMP BACK | BE FORWARD

Once I was rollin’ with Rush, but Spin-L.P. outran him
“We used to copy him,” kids say, “but now we can’t scan him”
Animal thugs, y’all step back inside of my zoo crew
Your rhymes ain’t too deep, it don’t matter what you do do
Voodoo’s the spell that I’m castin’, or gris-gris
But you’re still a wanna-be, get your hair did at Re-Re’s
See me, I spark it on Park for a lark
And catch you sippin’ that charity wine from Barry Larkin
No parkin’ on the dance floor when you check what I’m spinnin’
Women, give my piece a chance like John Lennon
Sinnin’ is my specialty, freakin’ is my forte
Or should I say forty for the people in my court?
I’ll abort and cut short any challenge to my throne
While you phone up a crone to bone when you’re alone
And lonely, the only style to which you are accustomed
Cold blowin’ up your own balloons, but I’ma bust ‘em
It’s funny, all the money that you spent to make you happy
But your track suit still got stains on and your knots is still all nappy
Teeth is gappy, you still rollin’ in that Ford your mama sold ya
Think you livin’ high, but you down low, fuck what they told ya
Weaned off weed, and they kicked you off of welfare
You tried to front Death Row, ended up top bunk of a cell there
Y’all don’t hear me, though, you mimeo, the kind you get in a print shop
Ain’t no carbon copies needed here, ‘cause THIS IS HIP-HOP

I EDITED THIS SHIT TO ADD:

I know Mick Jagger never ordered up a shake this hip
I know Sly Stone has grown to where he is afraid to take this trip
I know Flo-Jo don’t know if she got the bounce to make this hop
I know Mingus sings this ‘cause he’s got the chops to break this bop
And if my name-drop’s the same slop you hear in your head
Then just drop my name at the club until you rub fame with the dread
There ain’t no velvet rope so dope that I can’t rap my way over
There ain’t no cess so mess that I can’t add another leaf to my clover
There better be no barricade when I set out for center stage
You better let the crowd engage or else I let ‘em straight enrage
My entourage, my runnin’ crew, them all who do what I say do
And son, that might include you too if that’s the door you’re steppin’ through
But if you keep on frontin’, your doom I’m gonna foretell
You’re vanilla –iced, thrown off of Wiggin’ Pier like Orwell
You style inelegant, you played-out dilettante
You act all militant, get blackballed like Stirling Silliphant
You never understood that deez nuts don’t mean cock diesel
You play the title role in that joint “Pop Goes the Weasel”
Rent out a burnt-out house of pain, I call it clip shop
But my boutique’s so chic, ‘cause THIS IS HIP-HOP

CAN YOU BLEEDISHIT, THAT THIS HAS BEEN E'D T A:

We done made it past 2000 and the world just keeps on rollin’
You done tasted shark repellent but your rhymes keep bein’ stolen
I got Jeep beats, you a creepster, I’ma leave a mark like Bolan
Ain’t no country for ol’ Humpty Dumpty, I don’t josh like Brolin
The players pressin’ play for me, for you they pressin’ eject
I come the King of Royalties while you wait on a paycheck
I’m on the 256 tip, while you gum up my tape deck
Your steez like a sore throat while I’m straight-up roughneck
You more like Tom than like Bootsy, the life ain’t like Riley
Meanwhile I got more junk in my garage than Wiley
My fans can fill the stands from NYC out to Diego
Your clan must buy generic, son, your sauce is stricly Prego
I’m strictly gettin’ set to rock the mic without a cable
You’re mixin’ gin with juice with Donald Duck upon the label
I’m pepperin’ my lessons with some X-men next-gen clues
Your legacy is legs you see with mirrors on your shoes
If you had a hint of sense your sensibilities would edit hard
But you bought your reputation with yo mama’s stolen credit card
The show you stole was as old as Dash Riprock
I roll like Jethro ‘cause I know my cyphers, and I tell you THIS IS HIP-HOP

Comments

( 2 SHOTS LICKED — LICK A SHOT )
hipsterdetritus
Jan. 8th, 2009 07:17 pm (UTC)
Women, give my piece a chance like John Lennon

ludickid
Jan. 8th, 2009 07:33 pm (UTC)
Word to ya walrus
( 2 SHOTS LICKED — LICK A SHOT )

Profile

flavored with age
ludickid
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
Ludic Log

PROPRIETOR

Leonard Pierce is a freelance writer wandering around Texas with no sleep or sense of direction. If you give him money he will write something for you. If you are nice to him he may come to your house and get drunk.

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