HOPE

Hip-hop Never never die Hip-hop Never never die... Ghetto niggas struttin with nothing But dreams in Queens broke Mac 10's you could smell the PCP smoke Melle Mel told it real In the music he wrote Those were the days I remember We used to be close then I was 9 Coldest winter I remember was slippin in December 2 feet of snow Yeah that's the East Cast That black ice symbolized the rap life It was slick and smooth I understood I had to come from the hood Doin' the Peewee Herman The Smurf Before them phones chirped The block's drugs flowin' Didn't have your own work You had to have somebody else's A small chrome on your pelvis Started jackin' blue Georgetown or green Celtic ya girl's too expensive She wants shellfish Red lobster was poppin' Standin' on that line forever I wish somebody would step on my Bally leathers Now it's whatever Hip-hop's forever Kept my radio on 98 or 'BLS Had a prepubescent lyric gift But niggas never hear me spit My little brother tried to warm 'em I was a tornado comin' He knew from inside Like the eye of a storm And told my pops about it he gave us tickets to that“Wild Style”flick Double Trouble would chart it We was the proudest I never had a summer job Sweeping leaves Socks to my knees Homemade shorts Cut-off Lee's I ain't work a day in my life Wiping away eraser off the paper man I'm just tryin' to say it right Big radio tapes lowerin' down Lower the lights go Battery dead I gotta freeze them till they ice cold In the freezalator I'm staring at the speaker Sunken them 808's deeper Cleanin' my sneakers with the bristles of a toothbrush Soap and water I let the shoestrings soak in water Ain't got nothing to do with old school, new school Dirty south, west coast, east coast This about us This our thing You know what I'm saying, this came from the gut From the blood, from the soul Right here, man. This is our thing man. You know? So I say what I say, and I say what I say and I mean it Y'all take it how you wanna take it Cuz if you askin why is hip-hop dead It's a pretty good chance you the reason it died, man. It's a pretty good chance your lame ass, corny ass is the reazon it died Cuz you don't give a fuck about it You don't know nothing about it You want this paper, be a hustler You a hustler, you ain't a rapper Get your paper man. You know what I'm sayin But this rap shit is real, bitch This shit is real, bith. Bring it back.