Keep bustin about where you rest, and what you own, and what you drive.
So the day some niggaz come for you, I’m really not surprised.
Tag Archives: west coast
Now we feel the good vibrations…
So many females, so much inspiration.
I cannot stand no wack MC.
So step back if you please,
And don’t test me, you’re history.
God damn! Drug dealers dealin’ to the kiddies,
Livin’ in the city ain’t no pity on the itty-bitty.
We try to cry, but still they all die,
I try to speak to the youth, and the truth is: they all high.
It don’t make sense: either you a soldier from the start,
Or a actor with a record deal tryin’ to play the part.
We don’t just say “No”, we too busy sayin’ “Yeah!”
To drinkin’ straight out the eight bottle…
Do I look like a muthafuckin’ role model?!
Kendrick Lamar • “FEEL.” • 2017
I feel like friends been overrated,
I feel like the family been faking,
I feel like the feelings are changing,
Feel like my daughter compromised and jaded,
Feel like you wanna scrutinize how I made it.
Kendrick Lamar, “FEEL.,” DAMN, 2017
Kendrick Lamar • “Sherane” • 2012
It’s deep-rooted, the music of being young and dumb,
It’s never muted, in fact, it’s much louder where I’m from.
Kendrick Lamar, “Sherane a.k.a. Master Splinter’s Daughter,” good kid, m.A.A.d city, 2012
Dr. Dre (N.W.A.) • “Express Yourself” • 1988
I’m expressin’ with my full capabilities,
And now I’m livin in correctional facilities.
Cause some don’t agree with how I do this,
I get straight and meditate like a Buddhist.
Dr. Dre, “Express Yourself,” from N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton, 1988
Aceyalone • “The Guidelines” • 1998
I’d rather stimulate your mind than emulate your purpose.
– Aceyalone, “The Guidelines,” A Book of Human Language, 1998
B-Real (Cypress Hill) • “Bitter” • 2001
I lost my innocence at birth but I make no excuses
For the trivial things and the pain life induces.
– B-Real, “Bitter,” from Cypress Hill’s Stoned Raiders, 2001
Ras Kass • “Shine” • 2005
Not to sound cynical, but all you ever learn in prison is how to be a better criminal.
– Ras Kass, “Shine,” 12″, 2005
2Pac • “Holler If Ya Hear Me” • 1993
I’m like a major threat:
Cause I remind you of the things you were made to forget.
– 2Pac, “Holler If Ya Hear Me,” Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z., 1993
Snoop Dogg • “Revolution” • 2016
Huey, Malcolm and Martin, those are my peers,
They been doin’ niggas like this for over hundreds of years.
Poppin’ us, fear, now it’s time for us to clap back,
But this time we gon’ bust…step the fuck back.
– Snoop Dogg, “Revolution,” COOLAID, 2016
Ice-T • “Colors” • 1988
I am a nightmare walking, psychopath talking,
King of my jungle, just a gangster stalking.
– Ice-T, “Colors,” from Colors Soundtrack, 1988
The D.O.C. • “It’s Funky Enough” • 1989
Enunciate well, so that you can tell:
I am not illiterate, no, not even a little bit.
– The D.O.C., “It’s Funky Enough,” No One Can Do It Better, 1989
Snoop Dogg • “Gin and Juice” • 1993
I got bitches in the livin’ room gettin’ it on,
And they ain’t leavin’ till six in the mornin’.
– Snoop Dogg, “Gin and Juice,” Doggystyle, 1993
DJ Quik • “Dollaz + Sense” • 1995
You need to quit bangin under false pretense,
Cause if it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense
– DJ Quik, “Dollaz + Sense,” Safe + Sound, 1995
MURS • “18 w/a Bullet” • 2002
See my life is like a song, I just don’t know the words,
So as I try to hum along people say that I’m disturbed.
Stare and call me a loon, say I’m singin’ out of tune,
But my musics’ got direction so I know what I’m doin’.
Don’t know where I’m goin’ but I got to keep movin’,
Even if my next step is obscured by the present…
Gotta find the next rung on the stairway to heaven.
– MURS, “18 w/a Bullet,” …The End of the Beginning, 2002.
I dispense dope sentences without a prescription.
Prefixes asphyxiate bitches who flips linguistics,
Representin the West, relevant to relentless sentences.
If renegade rebels resent this wicked syntax,
Revert to revolution Ras reverse, reverberates,
Revolvin with written retalliation, rate repetitious.
My first offense was possession of weed,
Now I’m in the major leagues, and
That muthafucka Bill Clinton is a son of a bitch;
Had the nerve to throw out the first pitch.
I’m just tryin’ to get rich like Trump,
The home run king is now in a slump…pass me a hunk.
How the fuck can I stay out the Pen,
When its 1-2-3 strikes, you in?
My mental’s the bullet, my tongue’s the finger that pull it.
We live for they amusement like they view us from behind the glass.
No matter what we grow into, we never gonna escape our past.
So in this cage they made for me, exactly where you’ll find me at;
Whether it’s my time to leave or not, I’ll never turn my back.
Always knew that I would clock G’s,
But welcome to McDonald’s: May I take your order, please?
Gotta serve ya food that might give you cancer,
Cuz my son doesn’t take no for an answer.
Now I pay taxes that you never give me back;
What about diapers, bottles, and Similac?
Do I have to sell me a whole lotta crack
For decent shelter and clothes on my back?
Why they hate us? Why they want to rape us for our culture?
They greet, defeat us, bleed us, then they leave us for the vultures.
They break the brilliant off with millions, tryna to break their focus;
More tan the man, the more alone and hopeless.
They say the richest 400 Americans make more
Than the other 180 million combined,
And if that sounds fair, then you’re out of your mind.
So fuck a Republican, I’m out on my grind,
Cause being poor, being black, and Latino’s a crime.
That’s why we use the underworld to survive,
And I hate to admit I connive, but I’m alive cause I strive.
Make a dollar out a nickel and dime
I’m a hustler, I’m a hustler…
I could sell pussy to prostitutes, you a customer.
Cause when I was low, you was there for me,
And never left me alone because you cared for me.
And I could see you coming home after work late:
You’re in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate.
You just working with the scraps you was given,
And Mama made miracles every Thanksgivin’.
Drink Listerine, brush my teeth with amphetamine,
So I can sound fresh and say dope things in between.
Now I’m a veteran, spit a 16 sixteen ways,
Sixteen in a clip, spit it 16 ways.
I know six teens, pull up to a sweet sixteen and spray.
I’m like sixteen Jays, but the beat I can manage,
So every Sweet 16 is like Duke and Kansas.
Before you try to fuck with Ren,
I’ll put two in your ass and you’ll be shittin’ a size 10.
Everybody want to talk about who this and who that,
Who the realest and who wack, or who white or who black.
Critics want to mention that they miss when hip hop was rappin’…
Motherfucker, if you did, then Killer Mike’d be platinum.
I never had real friends ‘til now…
I never had to steal ends cause that’s foul.
I walk the streets with the baseball bat feelin’ secure,
But I try not to incite fights–that’s immature.
Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian,
And now the world around me be gets movin in slow motion
Whenever she happens to walk by, why does the apple of my eye
Overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much I try?