|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
Most of you artist out here thinking you're 2pac. While you others walking around with your big guns cocked. With these so-called gangster figures bragging about who they're killing, While listening to studio artists talking about their rims that be spinning. Now we hearing the pioneers of hip hop gasping for reverence, seeing the life of hip hop being corrupted in her essence. Now listening to these artists spitting lyrics sounding lame. Murder, drugs, calling women whores, it's all the same. Now peep game phony, spit some real music hits, instead of walking around exploiting sex, and drug for kicks. You need to quit, saying you're the greatest in the game. It was two greatest, they're deceased, I'm saying no names. For it's a shame when you're talking about rubbish that don't matter, like whose life, guns, or drug deals is fatter. It don't matter now, I guess hip hop's dying, so bless her soul. While commercial artist, wanting the hardcore image, selling their souls. Hip hop's dying y'all! Vote for this poem
|
|
|