[Intro]
It's not pop, listen to me
This is not pop, listen to me
It's not pop, listen to me
[Verse One]
I was taught never let them see you sweat
I ain't cried in years
Ice water in my veins - so much for blood sweat and tears
From up in the upper tier
Who'd succumb to peer pressure
Appears to separate the puppets from the puppeteers
Pay me a couple dues. [?] I ain't never take no number 2
Pen me a couple tunes
A few numbers for comfortin' a troubled youth
The sisters and brothers who never budge from in front of tubes
I couldn't counter this
Close encounters with cowards and counterfeits
That exist in the biz, you movin' Rihanna and Sierra Mist
Where're moments where motives are as clear as a Sierra Mist?
And every line that I wrote
From the top of the album to the bottom of liner notes
Every word of Ebonics, "word is bond" is a solemn oath
It's stronger than solid dope, come on let's go
[Chorus]
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it, listen to me
I get it, listen to me. (It's just that simple...)
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it popping but it's not pop listen to me
I get it, listen to me
[Verse Two]
I don't refer to hip hop as the game - ain't no playin' taking place
Cats coming the same, none're spayed, none're chaste
Who's calling the plays? [?] play, [?] replaced
Who's counting your change? When will change end the chase?
Rats packed in a maze, some'll laze, some'll race
Fat stacks of the haze, some're sprayed, some're laced
Few capital gains, lowercase, lowercase
Seems like there's no escape...
So we turn saved to handle the pain - "One day in heaven."
Then throw hands when they play, "One-eight-seven..."
Among tricks of the trade, a well paid reverence
Just don't break, all it takes is one brave peasant
Stop saving up bread and go save brethren
Stop chasing the papes and just stay present
Stop making complaints and go make legend
And I am an... [?]
[Chorus]
It's not pop
This is not pop
This is not pop
[Verse Three]
Let me slow it down, I'm just starting up
They tell me dumb it down, I tell them smarten up
I gave the cartons up
I gave the sparking up
We the Spartans son, pardon us
Me and my partners, they try to target us
Claim they can't market us. Market what?
We already on the clubs, chorus on the cut
We already on the cusp, that's because
At the core, at the crux
We cut from a cloth, never wore, never once
And sip from a cup
That runneth over, such my homies got homes over Roman rust
So what's the rub?
The constant hustle and bustle in run and rush
Their roles are running Russell, in other words, runnin' Rush
Brothers than run amok
Ask who are we to judge, but we gon' readjust
Son, what?
[Chorus]
It goes...