Hip Hop

Lyrics

[Intro: The Mad Rapper] Ayo Fred This, is, Hip, Hop! [Verse 1: Fred The Godson] Uh, I heard you tryin' to stack God, dough Shit, I get Black Rob, Whoa! It's either that or I clap y'all Niggas need Viagra to act hard, haha (you soft!) Bought a Range before the fame, you saw the chain Gold on my mind now Notre Dame, you saw the game (touchdown!) They spit bars, son, rarely MTV, I'm in different cars son daily (haha) I lift barbells to hold the hammer steady I root for the money, big fan of fetti I'm too live, get the band already I'm better than mad rappers, Angelettie (woo!) I shoot like Corey Fisher and Maggette Big nigga shit, swordfish and spaghetti, haha I get right with it Hip-hop for life, I'm too nice with it [Interlude: The Mad Rapper] Oh my God, enough with the fat niggas already Jesus, and nigga got the nerves to have braids Come on man, damn Alright he spit a little bars, know what I'm sayin' But who gon' play this? This is hip-hop, (?) [Verse 2: Fred The Godson] I brainstorm to this music shit Think Black Thoughts to get to the Root of it (woo!) If I ain't nice Nigga, then who can spit? Bet you now they don't sleep, Fred Krueger shit (nightmares) Battle you, I come through ya block Cruise in the back of a yellow cab, Collateral (haha) Yeah, shells in the mag, very compatible Comedy show, for bein funny I'ma clap at you (clap, clap..) They admire my mind and intellect Guess it's 'cause of my punchlines on the internet (uh-huh) Funny thing is that most ain't ever get it yet They like Fred won't let us, vinaigrette (salad niggas) You fin to die Pinocchio backwards, the snub nose come out then you lie My pen and I, they can't identify Fraction of my flow, can't break it down, simplify [Interlude: The Mad Rapper] Ayo, ayo, this is why hip-hop pisses me off Know what I'm sayin' We just gon' let a nigga name, Fred in the game Know what I'm sayin', that's it He probably got his mans with him, what Bob, Steve, Dick and Arthur (hahaha) [Verse 3: Fred The Godson] You can't pump here You gon' have to pay, Donald Trump hair Get it? Trump hair, toupee I'm not the one to play But we can battle without Kool Moe to Cool J (let's go) I rap it better, in patent leathers, the cool greys Listenin' to old school, the new school just fuel rage (woo!) I'm at stage with a stage as my podium Jesus, black rhodium, they salty, sodium You can't fault me, I'm just tryin' to flow to 'em The last livin' lyricist, lately is why they go to him (oouu!) You can't blame him, money and fame then Watch my brother cop, Everybody Loves Raymond These is simplest terms, damn near in layman Cadillac truck, white center, Chris Kaman Cuban link and a brick that's how I came in Why you mad rapper? Hahaha [Outro: The Mad Rapper] Tell 'em why you mad son Yeah I can tell that y'all mad, for real It ain't hard to tell man, for real The guy done spittin' This that straight hip-hop, this that hard hip-hop Know what I'm sayin', wait, wait wait We not playin', for real