M.O.P. — Salute Part II

[Intro] "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. It's here its reality, this is our nature. It's how we live." [Verse 1: Guru] Now everybody on Earth wanna rap, we birthed all of that Knocked up the game, and cold broke its back Gang Starr, with Billy Danze and Big Slap Word to Laze, Big Scoob and big gats You didn't whip it right so pick up the pace Word to grimy niggas, they want to stick up the place Word to hip hop, plus a crib that's laced Primo's breaks, activate the mental to solve We got credentials galore, fuck a small venue tour Yet and still, I be at the around-the-way spots Near where niggas be slinging innocent get hit by straight shots And brave cops, protect the community While corrupt cops, be harassing you and me Pulling me over, in front of the crib In front of my neighbors, asking for favors Here's a cassette and why you question my behavior? Pursuing me, trying to catch me off guard I shrug scars, you see a lot of hoes at thug bars I don't care what these beats might do We'll sun you, plus I see right through It's way it means to me and M.O.P Just To Get a Rep, nigga, you best to step, nigga Salute! [Scratch Hook] (Holdin it down ----) Billy Danze (Phony ass rappers ----) Guru (I'm Dead serious ----) Finish em ---- Lil' Fame (Is this hip hop) Hell no this is war ---- Billy Danze Heavy artillery, in my vicinity ---- Lil' Fame *repeat, change 5th line to: M.O.P.* [Verse 2: Billy Danze] Aiyyo, the game's called survival *echoes* I admit As a soldier, I've done a lot of shit To the so-called tough dude, I ain't mad at you But I wish I wouldn't of had to do the shit I had to do It's true, I would jump up in a Bamma And travel 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 to blazin But I will think about what size slug best for the occasion (It's so amazing) That it never worry me Pop shit like Windy Williams till you fuckers bury me (Who we be!) What, what's wrong, nigga? (First Family) Come, come on, nigga! (Ain't nothin cute) My niggas is ready to shoot For the love of the First Family thugs Salute! [Hook] [Verse 3: Lil' Fame] Before you slit your wrist, bitch, imagine this M.O.P., Gang Starr (Damn!) hazardous Thugs that got love for this hip hop and shit Makin words rhyme at the same time poppin shit I used to go to jams, and drop grammar Before I left niggas told me (Boy take your hammer!) Sure nuff, shit got rowdy Dumped off my first clip at a house party I love this rap shit, though, the love is clear But fuck the parties, my nigga, I lost a brother there Only if I'm gettin paid (That's right) And the shit gon' benefit the trade I snatch a mic, turn it out, bet Even have you smooth niggas fuckin up yours shoes and your outfit I be, the Brownsville slugger (Signing out) Act like you know what I'm about Salute! [Hook] *Premier scratches to fade*