Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Real Hip Hop, artist - Royce 5'9. Date of issue: 13.07.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Real Hip Hop |
| If this ain’t real hip hop nigga tell me what it is then |
| Walking sci-fi cyborg, my image is |
| Napalm, translation, you tampon bleed |
| Like the opposite of mankind |
| Tryna put your hands on my damn rod |
| You might as well handstand on a land mine |
| If I ain’t bout that, let adversity hurt me |
| Like if I ain’t bounce back, all I do is count stacks |
| You can’t put me and flames in the same quote |
| Beast on the track, me and Usain Bolt in the same boat |
| Mention me and lightning in the same volt |
| Crqckers amphibian, I’m a handful |
| Guns give you suntans like a Pakistan Indian, pop shit |
| Quick enough to snatch a fly out the air with some fuckin' chopsticks |
| Uh-uh-uh, nigga, who hotter than me? |
| I’m on a million dollar-AK-hollering spree (Nickel!) |
| If this ain’t raw shit, then nigga, I’m lost in the game |
| And that means everyone remains comin' with that soft shit |
| This is that dark flow, caught up in the alley walking |
| Like Losing Out Pt. |
| 2 without Alan Parsons |
| Take precaution, the percussion is danger |
| These niggas feelin' anger, like ever since we came up |
| My circle always come prepared |
| While other cats is like a plaid shirt, all I see is a bunch of squares |
| Have a bunch of Leers out in London on stage |
| Watching hands to the ceiling while rocking in front of fans |
| Yeah we so in here, so advanced, so far into the future |
| Copping grands these nigga won’t comprehend |
| This game looks wide open in my eyes |
| So of course I took it and ran with it like a baton |
| And passed it to my fam, the legacy lives on |
| Fuck bein a hundred deep, we’re trying to be a mil strong |
| If this ain’t hip hop, like Dickies and flip-flops |
| Or Phillies and Timbos, the Willies with trimmed fros |
| Ya’ll silly as bimbos and hillbillies, still illy with them flows |
| My skill really shine like gem stones |
| In Beverly Hills, feel me? |
| New sheriff in town, the flair with the sounds |
| Since rap was lost in the mainstream |
| But who care if it drowns |
| My brain scheme is complex like the magazine |
| Swagger’s mean like gang related rags and jeans |
| Tag a scene, smack machines, make the maggots lean |
| I drag machines like blunts from outta bags of green |
| On Dud’s stash! |
| So playa I pull the stud’s math |
| Those in power get golden showers and bloodbaths |
| In shitstorms, I spit thorns and pierce through |
| The nearest crew, who never knew I was fierce, but |
| Fear is true with the clearest view |
| They grim and hate, and imitate what they hear us doin' |
| Immolate, I’ll demonstrate how their spear flew |
| To higher ground and came down like a parachute |
| For fucking with me, Royce, Black, and June |
| We’ll lay you on your back in black lagoon |
| If this ain’t real hip hop |
| What the fuck is it then? |