Shabazz the Disciple - Hip PopLyrics

[Chorus: repeat 2X] Hip pop, they tap dance to sell a mil While real emcees with skills don't got a deal It's industry conspiracy to make us savage Take off ya clothes to go gold, sell ya soul to live lavish [Verse One] It seems every man want to be a pop star It's obvious to me that you forgot who you are These labels will have you wearing high heels and a bra Cut the roots to ya tree and watch ya empire fall Now hip hop is a tree, and trees live by their roots All the roots live underground, water down me no salute! They pimping the culture, the same vulture who stole ya agriculture My vocab is ultra, I insult ya or nurture ya sculpture It's like to get a record deal, you gotta get naked and kneel Labels ain't checking for skills no more, they want sex appeal No publishing checks in the mail Don't you know when you become a slave to money That's when you destined to fail You swallowing so you can sell a million records On magazine front covers butt naked Used to be a queen who was highly respected Now when I listen to ya album, shit get ejected I didn't get the album out, somebody cock blocked it In 99 I smacked the blackball right in the side pocket When I drop it take ya plaque to the pawn shop and hock it I'm taking all y'all money this year, extorting ya profit y'all got greedy and went commercial And ya label's still jerking you I'm starving all y'all niggaz this year, take it personal [Chorus] [Verse Two] Fuck riding in limos nigga copyright ya demos Cause they shiesty, labels are shiesty Ya manager's stroking you, saying shows are promotional Cause they shiesty, niggaz are shiesty Stupid, the main niggaz who helped you get on The first niggaz you shit on You'll realize who love you when all ya money's giddone They're smiling in ya face Cause right now you're putting cake on their plate Them the same niggaz that's scheming on ya safe - word! It's the ones that sniff coke witcha, from broke to richer Now they want to cut ya throat and come and getcha Ya fake acapellas can't really rock a farvela crowd Ya head is full of helium, you floating in the clouds On stage fronting like the solo type Cloned my hip hop chromosomes, deep down you know Shabazz ya prototype Don't even know how to hold the mic, trippin over the cables Mumbling and stumbling into the turntables Tap dancing, juggling, shuffling their feet smiling The type of niggaz I be snuffing while their freestyling Whether you're gold or you're platinum, I'm robbing and gatting them And slapping them with an aluminum bat and busting a cap in them Duct taping and gagging them, make 'em deep throat the magnum Trapping them in alleys, where we're beating stomping and dragging them Fuck selling my soul for that mansion and a yacht I'd rather make salat and scrape the bottom of the pot Real soldiers survive with 3 hots and a cot You can't take them riches in the ground when you rot Must have forgot, ya fans bought you to that altitude And now you left them astray, ego got you confused Son I be browsing, they tryna trap us all in public housing How niggaz classic albums only sell 200 thousand Labels be running sound scams on ya cream That makes niggaz susceptible on going mainstream, they pulling ya strings With marketing schemes extorting the fiends They ain't gonna never tell you how many records you sold seen Peace to all emcees staying true to their root Don't sell their soul for the loot And planting seeds in the youth and fuck the [Chorus] [Outro] Hip pop, hip pop, hip pop we shoot Empires will fall when you cut the trees root Hip pop, hip pop, hip pop we shoot Empires will fall when you cut the trees root