25 February 2010

Lyrics: "Hop-Hypocrite" (Verse 02).

To clarify, I had the second verse on a song with three MCs on it. Yet another rant written a few years ago about the average rap listener being brainwashed by Clear Channel and Viacom. References are a bit dated, but yes I still feel some kinda way about it.

I was taught to write whatever my emotions dictated
Document my memories before that shit faded
From my mind, I needed to capture the essence
Master the lessons -- time passed, I became a bit jaded

Lookin' around man, I see half of these kids fake it
Claimin' they ball hard when ain't half of these kids make it
Out they mom's crib, you ain't stackin' no chips, face it
You'd rather go get wasted and basically lost it

Thinkin' hip-hop is thugs packin' gats on the telly
With tats on their belly, you actin' like you Machiavelli
More fruity than a packet of Jelly/Son you all talk
Like pigeons who do nothin' but yap on the celly

I'm tryin' to get through to ya brain, write you a chapter
And remain true to my name, write what I have to
With my third eye open, and you leavin' it shut
But I don't give a fuck if you're daydreamin' or what

So life out your fantasies of the chrome on ya gat shinin'
While we kick back in a mansion and match diamonds
But reality's me and these local cats grindin'
Tryin' to keep our careers from nosedivin' and flat-linin'

Blame it on bad timing or wack rhyming, whatever
'Cause however you see it, it seems to never get better
Never let up, 'cause if you ain't part of the solution
Watch your fuckin' back when we start the revolution

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