Nas
Nas — Hip hop is dead
Nas — Hip hop is dead (текст песни)
[DJ samples] ’Hip hop’ ’hip hop’ ’is dead’ ’Hip--hip hop’ ’hip hop’ ’is dead’ ’Hip--hip hop’ ’hip--hip hop’ ’is dead’ ’Hip--hip hop’ ’hip hop’ ’hip hop’ [Hook - 2X] If hip hop should die before I wake I’ll put an extended clip inside of my AK Roll to every station, murder the DJ Roll to every station, murder the DJ [sample] Hip hop just died this mornin’ And she’s dead, she’s dead [Verse 1] Yeah, niggaz smoke, laugh, party, and die in the same corner Get cash, live fast, body their man’s mama Rich ass niggaz is ridin’ with three llamas Revenge in their eyes, Hennesy and the ganja Word to the wise with villain state of minds Grindin’, hittin’ Brazilian dimes from behind Grindin’, hittin’ Brazilian dimes from behind (Grindin’, hittin’ Brazilian dimes from behind) Whenever, if ever, I roll up, it’s sown up Any ghetto will tell ya Nas helped grow us up My face once graced promotional Sony trucks Hundred million in billin’, I helped build ’em up Gave my nigga my right, I could have gave left So like my girl Foxy, a nigga went Def So nigga, who’s your top ten? Is it MC Shan? Is it MC Ren? [Hook - 2X] [sample] Hip hop just died this mornin’ And she’s dead, she’s dead [Verse 2] The bigger the cap, the bigger the peelin’ Come through, something ill, missin’ the ceilin’ What influenced my raps? Stick ups and killings Kidnappings, project buildings, drug dealings Criticize that, why is that? Cuz Nas rap is compared to legitimized crap Cuz we love to talk on ass we gettin’ Most intellectuals will only half listen So you can’t blame jazz musicians Or David Stern with his NBA fashion issues Oh I they like me--in my white tee You can’t ice me, we here for life B On my second marriage, hip hop’s my first wifey And for that we not takin’ it lightly If hip hop should die we die together Bodies in the morgue lie together All together now [Hook - 2X] [sample] Hip hop just died this mornin’ Hip hop just died this mornin’ Hip hop just died this mornin’ And she’s dead, she’s dead [crowd chanting ’Hip hop!’ becomes beat] [Verse 3] Everybody sound the same, commercialize the game Reminiscin’ when it wasn’t all business If it got where it started So we all gather here for the dearly departed Hip hopper since a toddler One homeboy became a man then a mobster If the guys let me get my last swig of Vodka R.I.P., we’ll donate your lungs to a rasta Went from turntables to mp3s From ’Beat Street’ to commercials on Mickey D’s From gold cables to Jacobs From plain facials to Botox and face lifts I’m lookin’ over my shoulder It’s about eighty niggaz from my hood that showed up And they came to show love Sold out concert and the doors are closed shut