Words From Dead Prez . . .

This a dope verse from Dead Prez. This is  theHi third verse from “Hip Hop“. Read on:

Uh, who shot Biggie Smalls?

If we don’t get them, they gonna get us all

I’m down for runnin’ up on them crackers in they city hall

We ride for y’all, all my dogs stay real

Nigga don’t think these record deals gonna feed your seeds

And pay your bills because they not

MC’s get a little bit of love and think they hot

Talkin’ bout how much money they got, all y’all records sound the same

I sick of that fake thug, R & B, rap scenario all day on the radio

Same scenes in the video, monotonous material, y’all don’t here me though

These record labels slang our tapes like dope

You can be next in line, and signed, and still be writing rhymes and broke

You would rather have a Lexus or justice? A dream or some substance?

A Beamer, a necklace or freedom?

Still a nigga like me don’t playa’ hate, I just stay awake

This real hip hop, and it don’t stop until we get the po-po off the block

They call it….

(fake, fake, fake records)

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