F.h.h

RJD2

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    [Chorus]
    Keep tryna keep it real by keepin' it raw
    While half of y'all still be keepin' it flaw
    And all the real heads scream "FUCK HIP HOP!"
    Until this mediocre bullshit stops
    Drug fiends let me show you the route
    Who's that motherfucker still keepin the dope in the house?
    It's Mota mouth (who?), it's Mota mouth baby, it's Mota mouth

    [Verse 1]
    Whenever I write, I put myself out of place from other cats
    So it don't sound like another brother's rap
    I smother tracks with raw shit, niggas aren't able to bite
    What I bring to the table is height
    Then I easily superceed, niggas need what I got
    Reason I'm hot, there's no other raw season of pot
    While most motherfuckers follow the guidelines and hit by 101
    Jakki the Mota mouth decides to have fun
    Not following rules, swallowing crews
    Son I toss cats off the stage, often I slay their soft raps
    To all you fake dictionary emcees, get off that
    Half of y'all don't understand your own rhymes and soft
    batch(?)
    They straight at open mics, we put them out on the street
    Take away their dope beat, let 'em rhyme and they weak
    And the mic can be a decieving device
    Muffle your rhymes so they ain't clear and concise
    Have niggas thinking you nice
    With battle I'll crack all your gear and all your wack raps
    You can't be saved by your babbling or your backpack
    Doing it for the love is great but you fake
    And putting your shit out is a mistake nobody wants to make

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    [Chorus]

    [Verse 2]
    Hate when I go to open mics and I see everybody clapping
    For some clown they don't understand
    Yet everybody acting like he dope because they believe he's
    hip-hop
    Y'all convincing me that most of y'all are brainwashed
    Dug(?) in old hip-hop history
    Some cats are crap without their tracks 'cause they weak
    I wish a nigga would say he listen to me for the beats
    Some got the nerve to say they dope when they spit
    When even they family got a tape and they won't open the shit
    I got a big mouth and I ain't scared to use it
    One person's keystyle(?) allows everyone to abuse it
    So what the fuck is your definition of underground?
    Depressing beats and bleak cats who love the sound
    Well I ain't part of that, I'm tired of rapper's garbage
    I'm the part of the underground who only feels the raw shit
    And I can take a nigga out regardless
    You can bring your hardest artists and I'll make 'em heartless
    Some say they lyrically this, or lyrically that
    Throwing lyrical in every rap and they lyrically wack
    And many cats rhyme over tracks nobody fiends(?) for
    Don't fuck around with me, if you can only fuck with keyboards
    Just 'cause lazy niggas use recognisable material
    Don't mean the dope samples are not original
    'Cause a producer with skill can lace tracks
    Keyboard beats aren't that original, lets face facts
    That shit was overused in the G-funk era
    Don't give me that excuse, real emcees want better
    You rhyme over enough shit, most get away with murder
    Like kids who think they words rhyme 'cause they the suffix
    Must bitch niggas be fragile with facts
    You bragging 'bout who you battled, but who you battled was
    crap
    What you angry for, and acting all tense
    If you innocent be cool, only the guilty's catching offense

    [Chorus]

    Información de la canción

    Composición: R J

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