Tekst piosenki
Fake-fake records-records.. Uh, uh, uh, 1-2, 1-2 Uh, uh, 1-2, uh, 1-2 All my dogs.. CHORUS: It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip, It's bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip hop [M1] Uh, one thing 'bout music: When it hit, you feel no pain White folks say it controls yo' brain I know better than that, that's game And we ready for that, two soldiers head of the pack Matter of fact, who got the gat? And where my army at? Rather attack and not react Back to beats, It don't reflect on how many records get sold On sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll Whether your projects put on hold In the real world, these just people with ideas They just like me and you, When the smoke and camera disappear Again, the real world, It's bigger than all these fake-ass records When po' folks got the millions And my woman's disrespected If you "Check 1-2", My word of advice to you is just relax Just do what you got to do, If that don't work, then kick the facts If you a fighter, rider, biter, Flame-ignitor, crowd-exciter, Or you wanna jus' get high, then just say it But then if you a "liar liar, pants on fire" Wolf-crier, agent wit' a wire I'm gon' know it when I play it CHORUS [stic.man] Uh, who shot Biggie Smalls? If we don't get them, they gon' get us all I'm down for runnin' up on them crackers in they city hall We ride for y'all, all my dogs stay real Nigga, don't think these record deals Gon' feed your seeds and pay your bills, Because they not MCs get a little bit of love And think they hot Talkin' 'bout how much money they got All y'all records sound the same I'm sick of that fake thug R&B-rap scenario, All day on the radio Same scenes in the video, monotonous material Y'all don't here me though These record labels slang our tapes like dope You can be next in line And signed, And still be writing rhymes and broke You would rather have a Lexus or justice? A dream or some substance? A Beamer, a necklace, or freedom? Still a nigga like me don't playa-hate I just stay awake This's real hip hop, and it don't stop, Till we get the po-po off the block They call it.. CHORUS D.P.'s got that crazy shit We keep it crunked-up, John Blaze this shit (5x) They call it, call it, call it.. Fake, fake, fake records..
