AfterTouchBeatz - F*ck Hip Hop lyrics

[Verse 1: Real Prophecy] Time to sing sing, I do my thing thing b**h I'm a king pin s** my ding ding, dingaling and just kiss my ring fing Ching Ching, green got my brown swimming in pink pink Call her Ling Ling cause she smokes til her eyes are chink chink Devil's blinking, tek badman fi play ting ting f** you, f** your instinct, f** what you think think Pivot, you ain't got the feet to kick it po' little tank tank Step in the ring, all you hearing is ding ding There's no one that can match me, go head and jinx him n***as smokin' chronic, herbal tonic sippin' on Ginseng I got a little Chinese in me, my eyes are squinted Cause I take juice and I mix it with Jin and I drink drink She got her Beyoncé on, the culo of that Columbian is donkey kong Gwan with her panties on, basking in the ambiance Her man is a rapper but even he knows I'm a champion [Hook 1: Real Prophecy] (f** Hip Hop) Y'all can all s** my dick (f** Hip Hop) Y'all can all s** my dick (f** Hip Hop) Y'all can all s** my dick And my left nut cause all I'm screamin' is f** (what) (Repeat) [Verse 2: Real Prophecy] My vocals flow through what folks use in protools I'm local, close to global, hope it goes to Constantinople It's so true, there's only one god that I'll sell my soul to Jesus Christ, now it's time to get back on my old school There's not enough emcees, just rappers so I provoke you Poke you, choke you, rope you on soulful beats I wrote to Check it I'm on my Method, I'll roll you up and I'll smoke you Thinkin' I'm boastful, this style you cannot come close to It's darkness I doubt the sun'll come out tomorrow I'm from a place where n***as know nothing about the law No father figures and mothers are hooked on alcohol And how come y'all don't even know that I'm from the south at all Ain't no second guessin' that in blessed with essence Rappers lyin' bout weapons, well i don't need a Smith and Wesson reference Mojo so dope, never lost mine I'm in my prime, projected to be the greatest of all time [Hook 2: Real Prophecy] REPEAT x2 [Verse 3: Real Prophecy] Dead presidents buried in my cemetery jeans pocket on me Feel like a zombie I'm walking with the dead Time to get paid, digging Benjamin out of his grave Fold backwards, fold forward, never sold my soul for it Was a minor before, takes some time to mature A Honda Accord was the only thing that your mom could afford Now you rich enough to buy her any vehicle Including yourself, sell your soul, you would do it for wealth f** hip hop, I'm no longer humble Slid away to the darkest tunnel, where I beat my meat til I have carpel tunnel A psycho, sick perverted, you misinterpreted wrong b**h I'm a don, you just a dish detergent Picture perfect, I paint a perfect picture on my Pac sh** And since he died I don't know what hip hop is So f** you, I don't give a 'f' what! Ain't nobody stepped up, so you can s** my dick and my left nut [Hook 3: Real Prophecy] REPEAT x2 [Outro: Real Prophecy] Oh, I forgot to tell you You can s** my right one as well (Hmmmn)