Yeah Turn it up That's right For my niggas Here we go
[Verse 1] Some real niggas have gone away... never to return Stay forever on wax cuz the mics they burn Outta sight, outta mind, never does it mean outta might, outta rhyme So I return to make it hot for those who cannot Smile down on me niggas, while I rock the spot Is there heaven for a nice emcee Crushin all these suckers dear God don't be mad with me I don't mean to hurt nobody, I just wanna rock the party And give you a taste of what's left, before I see death Watch a nigga back, cuz I don't trust nobody Left hand hold the mic, and right bust the shottie Sendin angels to guide me through, in the white drop top When they ride me through When I hit the pearly gates, will they take my tax Will they let me rock the mic, will the beats be phat Will the rappers write they own rhymes up in that piece Will the fakes get locked by the cop police Or will I have to deal with A&R's who don't got no say I hope it don't be that way, tell me
HOOK 2X: Who Knows Why The reasons we live and the reasons we die You can't figure this one, so why try God help my soul as I testify And I wont lie
[Verse 2] Now as I'm lookin in the mirror I see myself Handsome with attitude, so momma gratitude I put the pressure on emcees I make it hard for ya, with total, disregard for ya This rap shit is raw not to be touched The ingredients if tampered with, could get you fucked up No one knows this secret I hold like Moses Given at birth, now what it's worth, it's more than a million six Let me spit it to you niggas, while my rhyme exists Listen, separate the real from the wishin If you bust at me and miss, you gon end up missin Cuz on these rap niggas styles I be shittin, pissin Leave you niggas lookin dumb like two niggas kissin I'm the true hardcore underground messiah I'm the kinda nigga street thugs can admire You never see me gettin robbed, jumped down and whipped out Or cryin 'bout a deal with no money, flipped out I get off my ass and make it happen I'll stick up the world if I aint rappin So why do I exist, tell me
HOOK
[Verse 3] May Allah shine down on any emcee That'll stand on stage and hold a mic with me May he give you all the flow of the ocean water And some nice hand skills to prevent slaughter My lyrics painful like bullets from a rusty tech Bumpy Knucks, nigga what, and you must respect All the true shit that I reflect Niggas know I exist only to wreck Won't let the verse loosen til you sign the check I won't be fussin at ya, but bustin at ya I treat all my rhymes like they devines Niggas spot me like a UFO I turn my mic on and resurrect the livest flow So if you askin me, why am I here To clarify hip hop loud and clear Real niggas, tell me
HOOK
Compositores: Peter O Phillips (Rock Pete), James F Campbell (Campbell James Frederick Jr) ECAD: Obra #25325228