Hip Hop Essentials Songtext / Lyric

Yeah

Father Rasco, you better act like you know



Straight off 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 whackest 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



Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em

Get behind the real rhymer

Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em

Get behind the real rhymer



Some of you fools on the mic just bug me

Sippin' on [unverified] 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 'cause 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 negativism

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

'Cause 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



Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em

Get behind the real rhymer

Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em

Get behind the real rhymer



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 G's, 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