lirik lagu speaking for hip-hop – funky dl
chorus //
i’m speaking for hip*hop, them sneaker wearing, loose jeans rocking / hoody popping, chilling on the corner, headphones bopping /
in the crib loud music til’ your neighbours come knocking /
(what’s the reason for this noise?) i bought the album when he dropped it / hip*hop, them iced out fat gold chain wearing /
middle finger in the air and stereo blaring /
loud enough to loose your hearing, that don’t mean i’m a k!ller /
i just like to turn it up like j dilla
verse one //
check it, word up, i’m here to sеt the record straight /
also herе to dedicate this to the peoples who judge us /
the ones that’s trying to move but can’t budge us /
snooty nosed, b*tch mother*f*ckers /
just because i’m from the streets and i talk a little different /
the upper class look at me like “he’s so ignorant /
he’s no role model, he shows no gratitude /
he probably grew up listening to them n*gga’s with an attitude /
i’m guessing that he never worked a day in his life /
and probably never went to school, i pray that he might” /
i’m an a grade student, i love jazz music /
just as smart as the rest and if i’m wrong n*gga’ prove it /
hip*hop is my movement and there’s no contest /
and by the way i grew up listening to a tribe called quest /
yes i’m young and i’m black and i got the sk!lls to rap /
that don’t mean that i pack and i never sold crack /
and you wonder why i’m mad, even just a little bit? /
cos’ you talk a lot of clay davis that means “sheeeeeiiiit” /
your word against mine, no contest /
go find somebody else to criticise with your nonsense /
there’s eight million stories in the city, it’s a pity /
i don’t f*ck with you n*gga’s when you start to act sh*tty /
give a shout out to guru, premo and zulu nation /
they all foundation up in this /
cos’ rap records taught foreigners to speak english /
and turned the young into distinguished men /
that’s why i always got my pad and my pen /
forever saying this again and again
chorus //
verse two //
yo’, i got their backs against the wall with this sh*t /
see that’s what you get for trying to call us misfits /
we street poets, just on beats flowing /
so why you gonna’ judge somebody when you don’t know em’? (ha) /
that’s r*t*rded /
just cos i make beats that’s the hardest and speak street slang like “raatid” /
“bombaclarted” you say it’s all garbage /
well how do you explain the rap records that have charted? /
i started rhyming on the school benches /
and learned how to beat a microphone senseless /
it’s the gift that i nurtured, these beats that i murdered /
and you still don’t know what it means when rappers say “word up” /
i don’t blame you but if you try to discredit my art /
i will name you and shame you, i swear down /
close your mouth, i don’t wanna hear a mere sound /
hip*hop’s been so hospitable to so many cultures, it’s un*f*ck*wit*able /
so i had to make this record it was critical /
to reiterate these two f*cking syllables /
hip*hop, in the streets we the generals
chorus //
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