M.o.p. - Salute Part Ii lyrics

"yeah, they talkin about rap." "we don't rap, its not about rap we livin it what they talkin about. It's not about college or what you read in a newspaper or magazine. its Hear its reality, this is our nature. its how we live." [guru] Now everybody on earth wanna rap, we burnt all of that Knocked off the game, and cold broke is spat Gang starr, will billy danze and big slap Word to laze, big schools and big gats You didn't whip it right so pick up the pace Word to grimy n***as, they want to stick up the place Word to hiphop, plus a crib that's laced Primo's breaks, activate the mental, that's all We got credentials galore, f** a small vending tour Yet, still, i be at the around-the-way spots Near where n***as be slinging innocent get hit by straight shots And brave cops, protect the community While corrupt cops, be harrasing you and me Pullin me over, in front of the crib, in front of my neighbors Askin for favors, here's a ca**ette and why you Question my behavior? Pursuing me, trying to catch me off quard I shrug scars, you see a lot of hoes at thug bars I don't care what these beats my do We'll sun you, plus i see right through Its way it means to me and m.o.p. Just to get a rep, n***a, you best to step, n***a, salute! Chorus: Holdin it down ----> billy danze Phony a** rappers ----> guru Dead serious ----> ?? Finish em ----> lil' fame (is this hiphop) hell no this is war ----> billy danze Heavy artillery, in my vicinty ----> lil' fame *repeat, change 5th line to: m.o.p.* [billy danze] Aiyyo, the game's called surivival *echoes* i admit As a soldier, i've done a lot of sh** To the so-called tough dude, i ain't mad at you But i wish i wouldn't of had to do the sh** i had to do It's true, i would jump up in a bamma And travle miles of road to unload this hammer (and i) notice ?colors? when they glance At the baby boy of haddy and frank danze I won't stress the blazin But i will think about what size slug best for the occasion (it's so amazin) ???? pop sh** Like windy williams till you f**ers bury me (who we be!) what, what's wrong, n***a? (first family) come, come on, n***a! (ain't nothin cute) my n***as is ready to shoot For the love of the first family thugs, salute! Chorus [lil' fame] Before you slit your wrist, b**h, imagine this M.o.p., gang starr (damn!) hazardous Thugs that got love for this hiphop and sh** Makin words rhyme at the same time poppin sh** I used to go to jams, and drop grammar Before i left n***as told me (boy take your hammer!) Sure nuff, sh** got rowdy Dumped off my first clip at a house party I love this rap sh**, though, the love is clear But f** the parties, my n***a, i lost a brother there Only if i'm gettin paid (that's right) And the sh** gon' benefit the trade I snatch a mic, turn it out, bad Even have you smooth n***as f**in up yours shoes and your outfit I be, the brownsville slugger (signing out) Act like you know what i'm about, salute! Chorus *premier scratches to fade*