Music World
 
Find Artists:
 
 
 
Russian versionSwitch to Russian 
Bishop Lamont




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  B  →  Bishop Lamont  →  Albums  →  N*gger Noize

Bishop Lamont Album


N*gger Noize (2007)
2007
1.
Intro
2.
3.
4.
5.
The Truth (feat. Stacee Adams)
6.
7.
8.
Fukk Kramer Radio (Interlude)
9.
Super Freak (feat. Bilal and Bokey)
10.
Bitches On Myspace
11.
Last Crusade (feat. Soul Nana)
12.
First They Love You (feat. Indef and Pr1me)
13.
14.
KKK Hotline (Interlude)
15.
N*gger
16.
17.
So Cold (feat. Mike Ant)
18.
. . .

Intro

[No lyrics]

. . .


[Intro] [Bishop Lamont talking]
Good lookin' Focus. I'm gonna make this masterpiece theater. You got me Drop? I know you tapin'
So anyway, welcome ladies and gentlemen. Bitches and bitch ass niggas and bitch ass bitches. Haha.
I know niggas been wonderin' what's been goin' on and shit.
So, I'm just gonna put you up on some things since I got the deal and what's been goin' on and shit.
You know what I mean? I've been seeing so much been hearing so much.
I'm just gonna go address some of this. Take this adventure with me. Buckle up!

[Verse One]
I swear to God almost every fuckin' day
Another fake ass nigga talk up to me, guess what he say?
"Hey Bishop. How's it feel to work with Dr. Dre?"
I reply, "Hey faggot how's it feel to be gay?"
Now beat it bitch, go blow a dick, get out of my face
For the thousandth fuckin' time that ain't me on Myspace
I ain't got no time for no Internet surfin'
Nigga I'm workin'
Wanna ask me somethin'
Better tell me in person
Fuck that page
I put that shit to an end
Just cause you put your picture on there, we ain't friends
Warren my nigga
Crooked my nigga
Taje my nigga
Mike A my nigga
Dae One my nigga
Fuck
You get the point
You friends with Chevy, not me
Speakin' of producers
Some of these bitch
Used to front now they all on my dick

[Chorus]
Hell, you might as well
Cut up your bed sheets
Cut holes in the pillow case
Put it on and hit the streets
Or burn a cross by my church
God damn bitch niggas
I didn't know you was some Klan members
Hell, you might as well
Wear a swastika
Cut your hair, go bald, become a skin head
Sell some Snapple get a rope and go hang a nigga
Hatin' sons of bitches
Y'all some Klan members

[Verse Two]
A lot of singers wanna rap now
You didn't stop me, nigga shot me in my back like bloaw
Baby boy I wasn't playin' no games
I really trusted ya, had love for ya, now I'm Ving Rhames
My nigga Russell know, so I ain't trippin' yo
Plus Poppa Black put me up on Game long time ago
Guerrilla Black, he and me go way back
So all that whisperin' to him 'bout me, you can save that
Divide and conquer that's older than Contra
We family, so bitch here's a word from our sponsor
Weeee killer
Bitch get your mind right
Bitch get your rhymes tight
I see haters are plenty
In the beginning I was mine
But hindsight is 20/20
Gossipin' bitches
Y'all better gang way
And stop callin' me 'bout what you heard Game say

[Chorus]
Hell, you might as well
Cut up your bed sheets
Cut holes in the pillow case
Put it on and hit the streets
Or burn a cross by my church
God damn bitch niggas
I didn't know you was some Klan members
Hell, you might as well
Wear a swastika
Cut your hair, go bald, become a skin head
Sell some Snapple get a rope and go hang a nigga
Hatin' sons of bitches
Y'all some Klan members

[Verse Three]
If I don't like you, I don't like you
I guarantee if that's how I'm feelin', you gave me every right to
Cause ordinarily
I'm a cool ass dude
Ask any real nigga round, he'll tell you the truth
And nothin' but the truth like my nigga Young Dre
G. Malone, Mystro, E. Whyte and Malay
Big Wide, Jack Bomb, Chuck Taylor, Strong Arm
Wide Beat, Camo, Pr1me, the list goes on and on
Alright, enough of that, let's get back to the song
Sticks and stones break bones but clown dances never hurt me
Listen
I ain't trippin' off dude
If I had a real problem I would have came and seen you
Homie
Come on, let's think back
Power 106, nothin' but love, I gave you dap
You was low key dissin' me, what the fuck is that?
But I ain't mad
I still like how you rap

[Chorus]
Hell, you might as well
Cut up your bed sheets
Cut holes in the pillow case
Put it on and hit the streets
Or burn a cross by my church
God damn bitch niggas
I didn't know you was some Klan members
Hell, you might as well
Wear a swastika
Cut your hair, go bald, become a skin head
Sell some Snapple get a rope and go hang a nigga
Hatin' sons of bitches
Y'all some Klan members

[Outro] [Bishop talking]
Church. Had to testify to the truth. The truth and nothin' but. Niggas comin' sideways at me. If it's really a problem, it's a problem. Holla at me man. But I forgive you. Amen.

. . .


[Intro]
Dear Lord. I hope you're listening. Please forgive these wack ass niggas.
For they know not what they do. Amen.

[x3]
Yeah, yeah
Uh huh

[Verse One]
I sniff Ajax
Drink Clorox
Spit fresh through every breath till a lung pop
Chiggy check tiggy tec till your neck, POP
My style the hardest shit since the black box
You hearin' a smidgen, a glimpse of my vision
A tiny description of words to them scribbles
So dope I ain't writtin' rhymes I'm writin' prescriptions
A dose of some written
Vacodin, Prozac
Throw in some codeine for sippin'
I'm causin' a vision like modern religion
See, I hold the key, I'm the major revision
Makin' it hard for wack rappers to make a livin'
Y'all better learn how to spit
Your own style you got to get
Leave some for the groupie bitches
Stop ridin' all the dick
The only thing I ever bit nigga was my bottom lip
Read between my lines I got a Code like DaVinci
But oh yeah, you can't read, here it says, "Fuck you bitches"

[Chorus]
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
It's the devil got you sayin' all this wack shit they playin'
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
Till I'm leavin', not breathin', I'll destroy these demons

[Verse Two]
The flow like slit wrists
The Cardinal don't spit like this
I call it suicide cause that's what you'll commit
Tryin' to spit slick wit but that wit can not be matched with
Can never ever be hot
You're a wet matchstick
E'ry day I get green like it's always St. Patricks
Immaculate Conception, my style is a bastard
Confess the truth in the booth so much I should have been Catholic
I was born to be fly, nigga my nickname is Maggot
Annihilate 'em, fatal, send 'em back to who create 'em
Godness in your face, nigga don't keep Him waitin'
There's a star in your circle when I cipher, call me Pagan
When my pen leaks ink, leaves the Mark of the Beast like Ronald Wilson Regan
When I'm speakin', I'm preachin' that's why they call me Bishop
Like it's motherfuckin' Juice, walk around with a pimp cup
Y'all already bust one, then I'm the second coming/cumming waitin'
Oops, I'm on my own dick again, let me quit masturbatin'

[Chorus]
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
It's the devil got you sayin' all this wack shit they playin'
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
Till I'm leavin', not breathin', I'll destroy these demons

[Verse Three]
You ignoramuses cease all your fussin'
Yappin' 'bout who's the hottest, that's a monotonous discussion
If you don't say me
Bitch, you on somethin'
If I get any hotter I'll die from spontaneous human combustion
So I got a fire extinguisher in the booth when I'm bustin'
The shit that I'm reciting is like grease is lighting
A 747 to mistletoe
Still don't get what I said?
In Lamen's terms, bitch it's over your head
I can do anythang, I'ma go out with a bang
I got one shot so put my mind to it like Kurt Cobain *gun shot*
I don't beat box
Nigga, I kickbox
My punchlines are fly, I'm practicin' Muay Tai
I'm Ong-Bak
Kick you through your window of your Maybachs
Ugly ass Cross Colors, I was rappin' way back
I'm gonna leave you with a jewel about true as the scripture
Like the Last Supper there's always two or three pussies in the picture

[Chorus]
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
It's the devil got you sayin' all this wack shit they playin'
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please.
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
Till I'm leavin', not breathin', I'll destroy these demons

[Outro] [From the movie Saw]
Actually, technically speaking, he's not really a murderer. He never killed anyone.
He finds ways for his victims to kill themselves.

. . .


[Chorus] [x2]
I wish the game was reversed
And my verse was the beat so you'd listen to me first
And then dance later
I ain't dumbin' down shit
You don't get it, get a fuckin' translator

[Verse One]
Bitch
It's about time I ignite
I'm C-4 and you're Napoleon Dynamite
Never before or in your afterlife
Will you see a nigga this nice only second to Christ
Or Buddah or cheeba
Whatever faith you are a believer
Let you down, you can be either
Scram, I'm Yosemite Sam with the heater
I'll clap, twist your cap, like a 2 Liter
I don't mean literally
But fuck with my family and money and it'll be
Pop!
To your detriment
I'm talkin' excrement
Pass the peppermint
I'm on some extra shit
In the booth like Bill & Ted, nigga excellent
I'm prepared, never scared, ain't it evident?
No security team, I ain't the president
I'm repoing the game cause y'all been negligent

[Chorus] [x2]
Yeah
I wish the game was reversed
And my verse was the beat so you'd listen to me first
And then dance later
I ain't dumbin' down shit
You don't get it, get a fuckin' translator

[Verse Two]
Fuck the radio
Fuck a video
And fuck any rapper tryin' to rap typical (FUCK YOU!)
It ain't that difficult
To spit some shit that's dope
Or maybe it is, but luckily for me, nope
You know that shit you wrote
Ain't no shit to quote
Unless it's XXL 'Step Your Game Up' hoe
Peace to Mad Linx but Rap City's soft
When the fuck they turn The Basement to an art loft?
I ain't mad at Tigger
Get your money nigga
I would have done the same thing just to fuck Melissa
It's a
God damn shame
When our music went corporate and fucked up the game
And like B.I.G. said, +Things Done Changed+
Labels merged, the raps and beats all sound the same
Seem like damn near, every rapper bang
Well I just hope Andre 3000 rap again

[Chorus] [x2]
Yeah
I wish the game was reversed
And my verse was the beat so you'd listen to me first
And then dance later
I ain't dumbin' down shit
You don't get it, get a fuckin' translator

[Verse Three]
Yeah
Remember Unity
And The Good Life
Project Blowed, Lamert Park, that's when shit was hype
That's when shit was right
Oops
I forgot
I'm mainstream, that type of shit I'm not supposed to like
I'm hittin' like a comet or a meteor
Either your, fuckin' deaf or me you're tryin' to ignore
Get war, hit the floor
Got guns? Get more
Like a Jehovah's Witness, I'll go door to door
And click, point blank, spill your brains like Igor
I got a fresh start, like I'm Lyor
From Warner Brothers
I'm on deck fuckers
I kid you not
Even Mike Jack can't touch us (nope)
So get back suckers
I put careers on crutches
Every rhyme I drop's the shit
That's why you hear the toilet flushes
Spray some aerosol, forever raw
I got the game wrapped up like it's Tetherball

[Chorus] [x4]
Yeah
I wish the game was reversed
And my verse was the beat so you'd listen to me first
And then dance later
I ain't dumbin' down shit
You don't get it, get a fuckin' translator

. . .


[Intro] [Bishop talking]
The following view expressed in the recording in no way reflect the thoughts of my label.
It's just me. Stacee Adams, every motherfuckin' hood in America.
Every ghetto in the world. Niggas feelin' the same way.

[Verse One] [Bishop Lamont]
So on huff, niggas think I'm roided
This west coast shit, you punks almost destroyed it
Wack ass, backwards niggas always spill it to spoil it
Take a shit in the sink and wash they hands in the toilet

[Stacee Adams]
Man it's the pinnacle
Five star general, slash criminal
With guns on the hunt for the cash, a hundred mil or two
Ask Adams and Bishop
Same difference
Two of the best, come from the west on the same mission
Blood or Crip, I got love for this shit
We can all buy cribs, throw dubs on the six

[Bishop Lamont]
But see, niggas like him, I can't fuck with them
+Follow The Leader+ is classic, but I don't follow the trends
Niggas do whats ever out cause they say that it's in
Hmmm, if you don't get it, nod your head and pretend
Goin' out like that, being a bitch to get wealth
I'm a vampire in the mirror, I can't see myself

[Chorus] [Bishop] [x2]
Niggas say they the truth but can't handle the truth
They say they keep it real but homie where's your proof?
Real recognize real no matter the distance
Go all around the world, it's the same damn difference

[Verse Two] [Bishop Lamont]
The president got guns and sell drugs like the gangstas and thugs
But all you see on TV is us
The Terminator kid took you for political advancement
Damn I wonder why they still ain't killed Charles Manson
Or Richard Ramirez
Ain't they murderers?
I guess ex-gang bangers are worse than Satan worshipers
I'm like, "God damn. He was writin' children books.
They writin' pentagrams in they hands"

[Stacee Adams]
They try'd to give a nigga 20 years for a gun without a trail
All the while
The pastor at church is a pedophile
What kind of sick fuck violates an innocent child
Same nigga pull a K out and shoot in the crowd
Like a bitch fuckin' niggas for free, she's still whorin'
Same difference
Might as well get paid for it
It's like a race against time, who can die the richest?
Whether it's crime or you get it legit, same difference

[Chorus] [Bishop] [x2]
Niggas say they the truth but can't handle the truth
They say they keep it real but homie where's your proof?
Real recognize real no matter the distance
Go all around the world, it's the same damn difference

[Verse Three]
I love Pooty Tang but fuck Chris Rock
John Lennon was assassinated, what about Pac?
And Biggie
Didn't all three get shot?
It's the same damn difference, they just niggas off the block
The plot
Get's thicker if you want it to
Shit, I think they killed Eazy, I'll explain on part two
It's a story about power and greed and dividends
And how they did Eazy Ruthless when he made ?

[Stacee Adams]
Shit, they might as well said, "Fuck it"
Put the gauge to this chin
Same difference
Another legend lost in the end
They tell me, keep my friends close and my enemies even closer
For the bread?
Your own brother will butter you with the toaster
It all revolve around money and power
Arrest us for sellin' cane when they supplying the powder
It's contradicting
Dollars and cents
Politicians just as crooked as the niggas in jail
Same difference

[Chorus] [Bishop] [x2]
Niggas say they the truth but can't handle the truth
They say they keep it real but homie where's your proof?
Real recognize real no matter the distance
Go all around the world, it's the same damn difference

. . .


[Verse One]
It's Carson in the booth every time I record
Compton, Watts, Inglewood, hood tour
Beach, Gardena, I can say a couple more
But if I do that niggas gon' get bored
Bossy ain't a big enough word for me
I'm C-E-O
No big beard but I ride like Tha Row
No punks here but let's make this clear, put a tag on your toe
No the body spray, but with the throw away
Pray your vital organs miss, you'll be okay
As new director, I'm changin' up the casting sheet
I edit you actors, delete you from the street
I keep it gangster bitch but I'm a backpacker
Not on some wrestlin shit but I'll back smack ya
Talk greezy enough and I'll send the body snatchers
I'll have them throw you in the trunk punk, just for practice

[Chorus]
Whoever wanted beef with me
Let's go
If I catch you in the streets we'll see
Let's go
We can squab or we can pop the heat
Let's go
Just don't turn bitch and tell the police
Let's go
We can make war or we can make peace
Let's go
Leavin' breathin' or you're leavin' deceased
Let's go
Better watch who you speak to and watch where you creep through
Cause when them bullets fly
Kiss your ass bye

[Verse Two]
I'm with the business nigga you know what that is
I'm in the streets my nigga, not into showbiz
I own the playgrounds now, it's time to show kids
Double Dare, take the physical challenge
Molly wop niggas, knock they shit off balance
Shake 'em like a bully then take they allowance
Hit the snack shop for soda pop and Sour Powers
Take 'em back to they childhood, fuck you cowards
(Why you so mad?)
Bitch I'm broke
Put your mouth to go use, stuff this dick down your throat
Fuck the government homie, why even vote?
George Bush, you stingy, front your niggas some dope
I'm not tryin' to be funny, it just sound like a joke
You can do a freeze with the lines I wrote
I'm almost at my peak, I'm a mountain of coke
Bishop's so church I'm endorsed by the pope

[Chorus]
Whoever wanted beef with me
Let's go
If I catch you in the streets we'll see
Let's go
We can squab or we can pop the heat
Let's go
Just don't turn bitch and tell the police
Let's go
We can make war or we can make peace
Let's go
Leavin' breathin' or you're leavin' deceased
Let's go
Better watch who you speak to and watch where you creep through
Cause when them bullets fly
Kiss your ass bye

[Verse Three]
Madden know this shit, I'm a real shit talker
But I walk the walk, call me the moon walker
I'm so smooth with the tool or the one two
Combo's with the hands, move like lightening do
I don't do battle rap, I'ma fight you
Rather sink my teeth in your neck, I'ma bite through
Make your blood squirt, spirt like a sprinkler system
Better get more body guards if me is who you plan on dissin'
I dream of rushin' niggas on stage
Give you a nice round house, Source got it, front page
I train to give you pain and a migraine
Act fly, shoot you down like a spy plane
This ain't tough talk, this just the facts
You gotta think shit up, I just think back
I'm breakin' niggas shit up, get placed on your back
I'm breakin' Suge's records, bunch rappers gettin' slapped

[Chorus]
Whoever wanted beef with me
Let's go
If I catch you in the streets we'll see
Let's go
We can squab or we can pop the heat
Let's go
Just don't turn bitch and tell the police
Let's go
We can make war or we can make peace
Let's go
Leavin' breathin' or you're leavin' deceased
Let's go
Better watch who you speak to and watch where you creep through
Cause when them bullets fly
Kiss your ass bye

. . .


[Isley Brother's sample]
"I keep hearin' footsteps baby, in the dark, oh in the dark"

[Bishop talking]
I'm gonna get something goin' off. This is one of my momma's favorites. It's classic man. I'm gonna put a twist to it though. You know, upgrade it. To right now. Check it out.

[Verse One]
It's probably that robbery you did way back
Jacked them niggas for they dope, they always said they'd get you back
You'd be surprised how some of these guys can find out where you live at
It could have happened on March, it's never too far for the payback
Fake name at the motel, same thang with the rent-a-car
Okay swell, always keep your eyes on details
And watch out for them females
They'll get you sent
That's the same shit that got that actor Romeo wet
Never have too many bitches all off at your spot
That's in the top five reasons why most niggas get got
Let they guards down for pussies so it's hard to block
Got Jasmine Guy in your bed, that bitch hiddin' a glock
That's the Harlem Night special, it happens a lot
Heat the sheets, squeeze the trigger or she let 'em in your spot
Wake up to a double barrel pointed at your knot
I ain't sayin' that's the case but just possibly
Why?

[Chorus]
"I, keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark, oh in the dark
Why? I keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark
Oh in the dark, hoo" - 'Footsteps In The Dark' - The Isley Brothers

[Verse Two]
It ain't gotta be drugs or some nigga you shot
It can be over love or some bitch you got
Or an ex all vexed cause he miss her a lot
So he snuck up in your complex waitin' to pop
Fuck gang bangin', pussy get a lot of niggas shot
A pussy will shoot you, you know how these bitches do
Jealousy is a motherfucker
We've all been warned
That Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
They act sweet till you make 'em act mean
Get caught tryin' to creep and feel the heat like Al Green
That's the least of your worries when niggas be gettin' buried
Them suicide bitches make shrines out your pictures
Run up to your car and pop nines at your bitches
Have you on the news in your homie's T-shirt
Better watch the hoes you choose, niggas do your research
Cause you don't wanna lose and have to cruise in that hearse
You sayin'....

[Chorus]
"I, keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark, oh in the dark
Why? I keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark
Oh in the dark, hoo" - 'Footsteps In The Dark' - The Isley Brothers

[Verse Three]
Now before I get indited, charges bein' one sided
The perspective for you ladies, unbiasly is provided
Cause I knew you was gon' hate and debate, don't even try it
Label me a woman hater cause the verses I recited
I admit, we niggas is crazy
But that don't mean go and have the motherfuckers baby
When you met him, that nigga was slangin'
You on the phone like Martin said, "Girl I can change him."
Ain't no changin' that
Ain't no changin' this
Especially when you dicknotized off some good dick
He can beat on you cheat on you and you still gon' stay
Cause he fuck you right, apologize, then it's okay
But it's not and it never will be
Move back home with your momma cryin', "He tried to kill me."
You scared to leave him cause he said if you leavin'
It'll be not breathin'
Guess who in your window peekin'?

[Chorus]
"I, keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark, oh in the dark
Why? I keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark
Oh in the dark, hoo" - 'Footsteps In The Dark' - The Isley Brothers

[Outro]
Uh, yeah, huh, yeah, I love this song. Shouts out to the Isley Brothers. Mr. Biggs.
Thank you, so much. Haha, low down dirty woman, back to where you come from. Hahaha.
Oh yeah, um, just-just liner footnote, um, about, you know, the women, cause you know I'm gonna get hate on for the third verse.
But the shit that be trippin' me out is...They be fuckin' with a nigga that got a girl.
You know what I'm sayin', cheatin' with the nigga, then they get with and get mad when he cheat on them.
That's some crazy shit. Hahaha. Yeah, shouts out to Nottz. Big Darryl. All of Virginia.
Huh, Patrick Tarrantino. Yeah. P.S....Beeotch!

"I, keep hearing footsteps baby
In the dark, oh in the dark"

. . .

Fukk Kramer Radio (Interlude)

[No lyrics]

. . .

Super Freak

[No lyrics]

. . .

Bitches On Myspace

[No lyrics]

. . .


[Intro]
Yeah, I like that. You know what this sound like?
It sounds like the Bible if it had a soundtrack. Church.

[Verse One]
Forgive me if I nod off snorin'
But hip hop right now is fuckin' borin'
Since The Miseducation I've been missin' Lauryn
For yo information you should stop performin'
And even think about fuckin' tourin'
It should be a crime how these rappers rhyme when they recordin'
Get the death penalty bitch, no call from the warden
No stay execution, electrocution I'm warnin'
It's been night too long, it's time for the mornin'
See, life goes on so enough with the mournin'
Yeah, I miss Pac and I miss Big
But that don't mean that I should bite they shit
If y'all not fags why y'all ridin' they dicks

[Chorus]
Cause it's west coast bitch, bustas, hustlas, hoes
Pimps, playas, gangstas, know
Bishop Lamont, war dogs, let's go
It's a brand new movement now
All that west, is no more now
It's been burned down to the ground
No more masquerade
Time to rearrange the game
All these rappers sound the same
Hooks and beats are just so lame
It's the last crusade

[Verse Two]
Yeah, these rap niggas actin' like these basketball niggas
Ain't concerned with the game, just the ball figures
You ain't Larry, you ain't Magic, you ain't Jordan bitch
You ain't Run, you ain't Kane, you ain't Slick Rick
Your album ain't a classic cause it got a few hits
Or got crazy spins and you got rich
Allow me and I'll enlighten you stupid pricks
I'm real, I bypass the collar tricks
I don't know who's the bigger fuckin' fool
The consumer or the dude that they listenin' to
The dude for tellin' that lie or believin' it's true
Nigga, R. Kelly raps fuckin' better than you

[Chorus]
It's a brand new movement now
All that west, is no more now
It's been burned down to the ground
No more masquerade
Time to rearrange the game
All these rappers sound the same
Hooks and beats are just so lame
It's the last crusade

[Verse Three]
I was preordained to exercise the game
I'm makin' church every time nigga hears the name
So hallelujah, he's so much cooler
I'ma hold down the west like Fidel reps Cuba
No I'm not a Blood and no I'm not a Crip
It don't even matter I'll bust yo lip
And if you bust that chit chatter 'bout that thing on your hip
Know that I'm so gangster/Gang Starr I keep an extra clip
To keep me +Safe & Sound+ like DJ Quik
But I'm on a higher level fuck that rah rah shit
I'm here to shake the devil with the truth that I spit
And remind these niggas if they ass forget

[Chorus]
It's a brand new movement now
All that west, is no more now
It's been burned down to the ground
No more masquerade
Time to rearrange the game
All these rappers sound the same
Hooks and beats are just so lame
It's the last crusade

It's a brand new movement now

. . .


[Intro] [Bishop talking]
Jeah! We tapin'? Hallelujah. We tapin'. We tapin' the crowd man.
Wanna say 'What up?' to the N.C. namean? Little Brother. Justus League.
I see you. It's no wonder why they call you 9th Wonder man. I understand clearly.
It's NC to CA. Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah. Wu-Tang.
This right here, I'm takin' it back with this one right here. Of course got to. Feel like 36 Chambers all over again.
It's Bishop man. The game is so empty right now. Oh yeah. Everybody on that glamour and glitz.
Empty ass fake rap shit. Everybody talkin' bout how much they love the game.
They really just love the fame. They bout the money.
Only giving praises to God in they speeches when they gettin' rewards.
Now the shit ain't right. You know.

[Chorus] [Bishop]
When you make it to the top
Got the chickens on your jock
E'rybody always say they "love you"
But when your next album flop and you 'bout to get dropped
That's when you find out they don't really "love you"
Rappers talk about stacks in they hoods in they raps
But they don't give back, they don't "love you"
Got a thug in your life, beat you up every night
God damn boo, he don't really "love you"

[Verse One] [Bishop]
When I ride in my ride I don't listen to the radio
Cause niggas spit that same ole', same ole', lazy flow
Ever since T.I., everybody samples Jay-Z's flow
Like swell, awe hell, he might as well direct the video
And when you go to pose, you might as well yell "Hov"
Borrow some of his clothes and borrow some of his flows
These albums should come with pillows cause all I do is doze
I be sleepin' cause wack niggas ain't reachin'
Me with what they speakin'
Nigga I ain't preachin' (naw)
I'm just talkin' shit
Cause nigga I'm pissed
I miss that Artifacts, Tribe Called and Boot Camp Clik
That Black Sheep, Camp Lo and Souls Of Mis
That Pharcyde and Freestyle Fellowship (what up P?)
The U.M.C.'s +Blue Cheese+, niggas that was the shit
Boogiemonsters, X-Clan, boy how could I forget?
Man, this rap now-a-days be on some real bullshit

[Chorus] [Bishop]
When you make it to the top
Got the chickens on your jock
E'rybody always say they "love you"
But when your next album flop and you 'bout to get dropped
That's when you find out they don't really "love you"
Rappers talk about stacks in they hoods in they raps
But they don't give back, they don't "love you"
Got a thug in your life, beat you up every night
God damn boo, he don't really "love you"

[Verse Two] [Pr1me]
I hit 'em with a stiff hard and stiff dick
And you can never play and old dog with new tricks
You stink like Nesquick, you never had a chance
I wrote the circumstance
Had you glancin' my advance
Knew how to sing and dance
The way I'm feelin' relationships are feather weight
So +Where Is The Love+ like Will.i.am and Timberlake?
Allow me to demonstrate, can never calculate what we create
Keep me here forever, let me elaborate
To jackin' the Coke
Push man was set on the dope
Temp rhymin' fresh on the stove
When they was doubtin' the flow
You bitches wasn't try to holler, you was glad I was broke
Until you heard my pen was deadlier than second hand smoke
Uh
And momma said I need a job with the union
Now I'm famous
Performin' at my family reunions, what an anus
So hanis like I'm high off drugs
If this fame wasn't here would I still feel the love?

[Chorus] [Bishop]
When you make it to the top
Got the chickens on your jock
E'rybody always say they "love you"
But when your next album flop and you 'bout to get dropped
That's when you find out they don't really "love you"
Rappers talk about stacks in they hoods in they raps
But they don't give back, they don't "love you"
Got a thug in your life, beat you up every night
God damn boo, he don't really "love you"

[Verse Three] [Indef]
Yeah, uh
Bastard son as I chase no love
I found music
When KRS was in the Bronx sellin' drugs
Before extravagant tattoo's and dubs
Fake niggas
Overflow with thick hoes and pro clubs
The fascination of crack I rap fucked up
13 year old girls wantin' they tits touched up
The image of perfection got pressure on young
And can't say they time tables, know how to load a gun
Know how to run from reality and one time
Scene so familiar like the generation befo' mine
Strays be hittin' babies, before Columbine
Lunch line, I used to hit the ? with a rusty nine
So I could slip home in one piece
My grand momma loves me and trust me kids it's lovely
I guess now more than ever, brought me to this
War dog, new west, so children follow this

[Chorus] [Bishop]
When you make it to the top
Got the chickens on your jock
E'rybody always say they "love you"
But when your next album flop and you 'bout to get dropped
That's when you find out they don't really "love you"
Rappers talk about stacks in they hoods in they raps
But they don't give back, they don't "love you"
Got a thug in your life, beat you up every night
God damn boo, he don't really "love you"

. . .


[Intro] [Bishop talking]
Hello! Fellow Americans. Haha.
We've all been brought up to believe a lie that no matter what race, color, creed. No matter how hard we work, we too can achieve the American dream. Are you livin' it?

[Verse One]
Yeah them cuss words moved us to the suburbs
Bought food when there was nothing in the cupboards
Fix my credit, lower class to the uppers
Million dollar homes still the neighbors call you, "niggers"
America, how sweet the sound
500 years later, still don't wanna ask around
New car?
Shit you prolly stole it
5 star restaurant? You must valet, take my keys, hold it
Fancy hotel, you in the penthouse suite
Walkin' down the hall there guess who you meet?
Though cracker sounds better lets call him Prejudice Pete
"I need some more towels boy, I wanna order somethin' to eat."
Flyin' first class just as bad
Terminal feels like a concentration camp
It's life or death to check your bags
Finally get on the plane, some lady got the nerve to ask
"You must be a sports star, can my son have your autograph?"

[Chorus]
I'm not racist, I got lots of black friends
No, no, no, no, no, no
Racism been over since way back then
No, no, no, no, no, no
Now the Constitution says all men are created equal
No, no, no, no, no, no
Kanye West is wrong, George Bush loves black people
No, no, no, no, no, no

[Verse Two]
See the world through the eyes of a black man
Don't think you know cause you grew up being a rap fan
48 bars on a dope track can't explain it
BET, UPN, WB can't portray it
A Roots Box Set can't contain it
It's so hard to picture events, you can't paint it
Imagine being born in a world where
Color separates class no matter if you a millionaire
Of course they love Oprah
Cause she a billionaire
Without the camera though
That fancy sto' wouldn't let her in there
Kobe Bryant, he fly through the fuckin' air
Clean cut, perfect role model, fans screamin' "yeah"
Slipped, whoops, white girl, same fans screamin' "electric chair"
No more endorsements, can't buy commercials, no fair
But Kramer said he'd hang us, put a fork in our ass
Don Imus watchin' nappy headed hoes and just laugh

[Chorus]
I'm not racist, I got lots of black friends
No, no, no, no, no, no
Racism been over since way back then
No, no, no, no, no, no
Now the Constitution says all men are created equal
No, no, no, no, no, no
Kanye West is wrong, George Bush loves black people
No, no, no, no, no, no

[Verse Three]
Yeah
Raise a hand if this done happened to you before
Counter clerk follow you around the liquor store
Raise your hand if this done happened to you before
Police detained your friends, they don't tell you what the fuck for
Brah
You just fit the description
Sit you on the curb or back seat if they trippin'
Slam you hard on the car hood if they really out flippin'
Now pay attention
Don't be a smarty
They just want a reason they can shoot somebody
Shot a brother 50 times at his bachelor party
No wonder why we always sayin', "Fuck tha police"
And ridin' in the streets hollerin' out "No justice, no peace."
Trust the government? Bitch no way
They the same evil bastards from back in the day
Shot Malcolm, a bunch of you up at UCLA
Martin Luther gave his life they gave him a holiday

[Chorus]
I'm not racist, I got lots of black friends
No, no, no, no, no, no
Racism been over since way back then
No, no, no, no, no, no
Now the Constitution says all men are created equal
No, no, no, no, no, no
Kanye West is wrong, George Bush loves black people
No, no, no, no, no, no

[Outro]
Man, it's so crazy. I remember times when we was walkin' down the street and people would cross the other side of the street. Like you would go get them.
I remember one time I was in the store and this lady clutched her purse and I'm out my mind like,
"Bitch! I got more in my ashtray than you got in your fuckin' account."
Isn't that some crazy shit? I remember, ah, when I was down in Miami, stayin' at the Lowe's and I was out by the pool and shit. People kept coming up to me sayin' "What football team do you play for? Are you a basketball-"
"Bitch I can't even dribble!
How the fuck, cause I'm tall and I'm black I gotta be a basketball player?
Why can't I be a doctor or a lawyer. Fuck it.
Man, I'm long winded so I'm just gonna make it quick.
I-I believe that is the american dream and we all need to wake up and really start livin' life. Peace.

. . .

KKK Hotline (Interlude)

[No lyrics]

. . .

N*gger

[No lyrics]

. . .


[Verse One]
Man, fuck anybody against me
Either in these streets or this fake ass industry
I said I was gonna make it, but y'all wasn't feelin' me
Niggas said I was just dreamin', oh yeah, well pinch me
Cause these money stacks look hella real
Every time I count it up I know how paper cuts feel
You're ain't supposed to feel pain in a dream are you?
That's right, it's real life bitch, I'm a star
That's why my T's stay extra crispy
They so white, niggas might try to sniff me
Bought some new jeans, ball cap, keep it simple
Shoes clean, my closet look like a mall window
Little bit of Foot Locker, little bit of Men's Land
Whole lot of swap meet and half of Lids man
I got the game rigged, you niggas can't win
Don't make my gun joyride and take you for a spin

[Chorus]
Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I feel no evil to my very last breath
So motherfuckers
Don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
I put that on my momma and my father
Nigga, run up and I'll bomb ya
It's my time to shine
I'm doin' my thing
So haters bow down and crown me king
Ain't nobody hotter
So don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
Amen

[Verse Two]
Not a knife, not a gun, not a tank, not a nuclear bomb
Not a whole army, not a nigga, not no one
Invincible
I'm super nigga
Be sensible cadets
Salute me niggas
Respect your superior
Drivin' by, value high
German engineerin', the Benz, I call it The Fuhrer
So you niggas know the rims is killer
Wooo, take a look inside
Feel that interior
The leather tighter shit than Eddie was wearin'
I gotta floss
Keep them haters and bitches starin'
I'm not N.W.A.
I'm a Nigga Wit Acres
Swiss bankers and private plane hangers
While you broke
Pretend to be gang bangers
Stay in the mirror, perfecting your mean faces
I poke porno bitches
Real gang bangers
I never had to fake and look, I'm still famous

[Chorus]
Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I feel no evil to my very last breath
So motherfuckers
Don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
I put that on my momma and my father
Nigga, run up and I'll bomb ya
It's my time to shine
I'm doin' my thing
So haters bow down and crown me king
Ain't nobody hotter
So don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
Amen

[Verse Three]
My career on steroids
I keep gettin' bigger
Once they put you in the tabloids you done made it nigga
Right between the Loch Ness Monster and Chupacabra
My Hustle & Flow gonna get me an Oscar
Oh I think they like me
You really like me
The bitches visit suck Bishop on the nightly
All the niceties? I ain't fooled
People only kind to me cause I'm signed to dude
To get here, I prayed, slaved, hustled, struggled, balled
If this was overnight, I'd be over tomorrow
I'm still gonna be here
When you ain't here
This a message for you haters to hear
Close your eyes motherfucker if you hate to see me shine
You niggas know you love it, send me a Valentine
I used to be skinny, gap toothed and not a dime
Now I'm rich and buff and I got Invisaline

[Chorus]
Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I feel no evil to my very last breath
So motherfuckers
Don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
I put that on my momma and my father
Nigga, run up and I'll bomb ya
It's my time to shine
I'm doin' my thing
So haters bow down and crown me king
Ain't nobody hotter
So don't bother
No weapon for niggas we shall prosper
Amen

. . .


[Intro] [Selection of Martin Luther King Jr's 'I Have A Dream Speech']
"But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free.
One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination.
One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity.
One hundred years later..."

[Verse One]
No, this ain't another street hustler tale
This is real life, real trife, real hell
Something almost all people know well
When some make it, most take it and you're supposed to fail
From a single cell
To a crack sale
To a jail cell
That's the black male
That's what the news tell
That's what these papers sell
That's what these government politicians all try and yell
But to no avail
Cause yet we still prevail
Oh yes there's progress but it moves like a snail
Will we ever win, or will we only fail?
I know you up there God, cause down here this is Hell
Is Heaven really worth it or just another tale?
But death don't ever snitch, so only time will tell
So homie my advice
Don't wait around for Christ
Get up off your ass and live your fuckin' life
Try and do it right
And keep your family tight
Just stay committed to get it and you gon' be alright

[Chorus] [Mike Ant]
It's so cold
Livin' in a cruel ass world you can't control
Doin' what it takes to maintain and keep your soul
If a nigga didn't have his dreams he might loose hope
So cold

[Verse Two]
Yeah
Uh, they call us gangstas
We claim we gangstas
But what about them slave ships that came to take us?
Ain't been no criminal act greater than that
Not since Christ's crucified worldwide, believe that
Huh, shit
I'm talkin' 400 years
I know the ocean's overflowed from my blood and our tears
While shackled on them ships and brought on to this bitch
They, kept us in them chains and beat us with them whips and
Shit ain't really changed so niggas don't forget
Cause niggas still with chains it's just now we push the whips
So close, yet so far away
I guess the sayin' ain't true that every dog has his day
Cause we've been dogged and treated like dogs
And really even worse
Shit is like we cursed
As soon as we're birthed and placed on this Earth
They hung us on the trees and burned down the church and
Just to think about it
The shit really hurts
And if they Klan wanna race, well you know I'm bombin' first

[Chorus] [Mike Ant]
It's so cold
Livin' in a cruel ass world you can't control
Doin' what it takes to maintain and keep your soul
If a nigga didn't have his dreams he might loose hope
So cold

[Verse Three]
Niggas know cash rules
Look at these inner schools
Where youngsters kill for shoes
Stick Goodie Two Shoes
They ain't got shit to loose
Ain't that some house rules?
Cause fuck makin' the bed, they'd rather make the news
Or make the red, make a grand of that block go 'blam'
Do anything but make the right decisions man
And God damn they ain't even hit puberty
Talkin' 'bout jewelry and stickin' up security
Lost all they purity
And think cause they fuckin' now it gives them maturity
Naw motherfuckers
That ain't what it be
That ain't what you gon' see
It's either a new mouth to feed or H.I.V.
(Message)
What done happened to The Dream?
They don't read about King but they know what Usher sing
And fuck a text book, they read the T.V. screen
For sneaker logos and Evisu Jeans
The platinum or the gold they see dangle and gleam
But everything ain't always what it seem

[Chorus] [Mike Ant]
It's so cold
Livin' in a cruel ass world you can't control
Doin' what it takes to maintain and keep your soul
If a nigga didn't have his dreams he might loose hope
So cold

. . .


[Verse One]
Napoleon said, history is a set of lies agreed upon
Hello, is this thing on?
I'ma lay it out for you like a futon
So you can cut it out and use it like a coupon
Sometimes I wish, I wasn't wise enough
Feelin' like Cee-Lo cause I know too much
Wishin' I could rap like the rest of y'all
'Bout just bitches in the club, cars and how I ball
The whole album through, every song that's all
But no sooner than I think it, hear my conscious call
Like naw
You gotta see this through
You a part of His plan you know what you gotta do
But I don't want to
But I need to
And like it or not
I have to
Like all the other teachers and soldiers that came before
That rose then fell and gave they lives in this war

[Chorus] [x4]
My story
My glory
God took from me now it's His story

[Verse Two]
They faked the moon landin'
To remain first
So how far fetched is thinkin' 9-11 was rehearsed
Researched
Then reworked
To make you hate Arbeeb down at the mini-mart
Look for the terrorist to come from overseas
But they already here in Washington, D.C.
Scare tactics got us demonizin' Iraq
Forfeit our rights for the Patriot Act
We hand over our power to stop the villains
To the very same bastards that dropped the buildings
I ain't Michael Moore
Nutty conspirator
Hooked on sci-fi, X-Files and Star Wars
Maybe common sense ain't that common
Maybe it's harder to recognize than to solve the problem
Who we fightin'?
What we fightin' for?
And why the fuck we still over there fightin' more?

[Chorus] [x4]
My story
My glory
God took from me now it's His story

[Verse Three]
How can you erase a race entire history?
How can you rape the place that was meant for me?
How can you erase a race entire history?
How can you rape the place that was meant for me?
A rhetorical question, historical suppression
Calculated, motivated by racist's aggression
Thinkin' back as a child in school
The lessons were designed as a tool to leave us fooled
You don't believe me just take a look
Our existence starts as slaves in the history books
Used to tell the teacher, "You lyin' to me.
What about the pharaohs and the dynasties?"
The Moor's that explored and conquored the open seas
While y'all was wack, fallin' back, thought the world was flat
You motherfuckers didn't even have flavor
Hidin' behind God on missions, swear you're here to save us

[Chorus] [x4]
My story
My glory

. . .


blog comments powered by Disqus



© 2011 Music World. All rights reserved.