Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Stereotype, artist - Inspectah Deck. Album song The Movement, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.06.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: In The Paint
Song language: English
The Stereotype |
2009! |
Geez |
Yeah, this be that old school type shit |
Yeah, that Blaxploitation shit (Afro picks, Cadillac whips) |
We gon’hit you like Truck Turner, with the burner |
I’m the Stereotype, in the zone where chrome meet chrome |
Hard heads call it home sweet home |
I rep that, hat to the back, chrome blaze |
Low fade, blazin’the haze in the hallways |
Young black nigga, bout to come back bigger |
Rap action figure, that’s strapped with the spitter |
I serve mankind like a super hero |
Gonna move the people, with sharp darts to the ear hole |
And terror spin, veteran style, ghetto child |
Call his name, hear it echo for miles |
Check my fouls, before you get wild, reconcile |
Trust, I touch kids, but I’m no pedophile |
The Superfly, I, O’Neal, holdin’the steel |
With the ounce from the greenhouse bent behind the wheel |
What’s the deal? |
Dick riders on board |
In this Bloodsport, I’m like Jean Claude, yes, lord |
This thing, is gonna be alright (alright) here comes the Stereotype |
It takes, time to get it right (that's right) count on the Stereotype |
The Stereotype, this life, I’m knee deep in The creeps keep creepin', the heat streets sweepin' |
The greed keeps feedin', the seeds need teachin' |
Police be seekin', all the ones free speechin' |
Guns be blowin', young g’s holdin' |
Nerve control 'em, they say that son be zonin' |
I’m half Huey, half Malcolm, part Martin |
Mixed with Mark Garvey, sharp as Sharpton |
A known fact, that I stay pro black |
I go back like Kojak or Bobby Womack |
Or maybe Jim Brown, been down from Ground Zero |
Crowned reknown hero, sound pounds your earlobe |
Mean daddy like a '69 green Caddy |
Seen daddy soakin’that fox, she beam badly |
With more drama than you find in the flicks |
I’m Dolomite, without the afro picks or flyin’kicks, it’s… |
My chain hang loose like I wear my jeans |
I got soul like Rakim and Grandma Green’s |
I represent The Projects, everything hood |
Big wolves in the woodwork, everything good |
In the bright lights, Big City, it’s ten times gritty |
Doin’life on the streets, whose biddin’wit me? |
Regardless, I’mma hold mine down, load my pound |
Target on the unknowns who roam my town |
There they go on that bullshit, when it go down |
You know who the culprit, sure enough |
The R-E-B-E, L, yell it freely |
I, call him Stereo, T-Y-P-E |
Greasy, on the hunt for the big easy |
Switch the game like plantin’cracks on the D.T. |
Say what you say, G, hate don’t mistake me Or play me like a must paid fee, that ain’t me |