Correction Lyrics Hip Hop Is Dead by Knox Hill

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Lyrics

Yeah
Ay, we just doin' something different out here
(Samad cook it up, yer)

Small products lost problems, rock bottoms
Narcotics, armed robberies, rottweilers
Welcome to the land of the Godfathers
Let me take you back here where it all started
I was in Jamaica rocking with the dance halls
Band jams in throw with the chance scratch songs
That summer [?] with the wack song
The Bronx blocks with bomb drops and Jam's row
LL was Cool J Jam Master Play the 808s
Grandmaster flash-based out the base
Those the days that can go fitted in gold ropes
[?] with Nike [?]
Like fight the power we were enemies to public needs
In the summer it was Ice Ts and f*ck The Police
Dr. Dre was smoking chronic
Charlie Brown, Snoop was hitting bitches
Doggystyle in the background
G-Funk back in the Foreground
Meanwhile, the era is gold
[?] Pac was rollin', Big was blowing
Rap was Bad boy
Pac was shot and he was mad boy
Made a couple disses in the lab oh lawd, "Hail Mary"
We lost 2 soldiers, then it all changed
Nah, literally, then it was all bling
We married mainstream, thought that it was all the fling
Then the white boy came and it was all the scene
Suddenly rap was backpacking in the coldest sack
[?] middle America
But little Erica, the parents gasped
Lindsey dropped it low but really it was all a parent trap!
Music hit the scene, ATL lit the fluid of new black movement
From Yung Jocs to Jeezy, Young Jocks so fleezy
After schools and bump the club hits funny how the outcasts loved it
The message of the rebel we can all relate
But somewhere way along the way, I think we oughta wait
From the pushers now its users
Pump, Uzi, Migos have no Trippie Redd computers
T-Pain changed the game and here we are
[?]
From witty raps and nitty-gritty facts
And in the midsts of that, I entered and my type is thin
But I don't really fit in caps
I don't trust control I ought to view
Delete the news and leave your screens froze
Can't alter facts, take my card I play my heart
But life don't come with starter packs
You highlight the haters, hate my stock your mark get capped
Keyboard bench warmers never started rap
Mad at mirrors but instead you aim at me and arc your back
And somewhere out beneath the trees I just sit back tie my threes And think: "It's my turn to finally spin a track"

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