"Slap Niggas" lyrics
(feat. Saigon)
[Saigon:]
Catalyst raps, crackers out to add to the stats
They're manufacturing gats to kill Latins and blacks
If it ain't each other it's black on Latin or Latin on black
Both get a box, one in the dirt, one up in Adirondacks
These rappers on wax, was growing up
Their mom, dad, even cat was on crack
Yeah get on and yap on a track
Call it what you want, black hating or mad rap
All that material crap ain't abstract, shit's mad wack
My flow is here to show what the difference is
Blind folks follow a book in which they don't really know the significance
Religion ain't feeding babies or curing the sicknesses
These Jehovah's Witnesses need to open some businesses
Spitting with no specificness
Blow the mischief and show prolificness
Ain't too many MCs that could go the distances
Father had it on since Matawan, fought Babylon
Sick of y'all, pick a wall for your brain to get splattered on
Whoever said bad is wrong, never slept on a pissy mattress
In a cell on the same tier there's a faggot on
Hawked 'cause you got ratted on
Rough said a burner is like a magic wand
Abracadabra, crackers is gone (they're gone)
Outta here (motherfucker)
Wish I had a magic wand (fuck is y'all niggas talking 'bout)
And all y'all fake rapping niggas (hit 'em in the head nigga)
Answer me this:
What makes ya cool to be a gangster?
What makes ya cool to be a thug?
What is it that's so cool about possibly
Getting hit in your head with a slug?
What makes ya cool to be hip hop?
What makes a grown man wanna crip walk?
What is the reason I swear to fucking God
That I seen George Bush with a pitchfork
[Talib Kweli:]
I slap niggas, kicking that wack nigga shit in my ear
My vision is clear, we see the same shit every year
People still shedding tears for names said in their prayers
We need change, the evidence here, but this is never what the president hear
They stick to their lies, and peddle their fear
And so I pimp the system, watch it shed its brassiere
Hunt 'em down, put 'em up on the mantle like the head of a deer
You can feel it in your heart when your enemy near, yeah
The moment that you bought this, the route you're taking is alternate
The way I'm walking and talking they call it ultimate, ultimate
Find your girl coordinates, all up in it, we intimate
She calling 'cause I get her wet, you balling, but you ignorant
I'm proficient in reading the body language, you illiterate
A little bit of class wouldn't hurt, you should consider it
I'm flashy with the lyrics, a nigga funny and serious
Spectacular vernacular, all the honeys is curious
Kweli, the one I'm running and I'm shining like the sun in it
Hitting like a ton of bricks since Hulk Hogan was Thunderlips
Never with the fronting shit, draw me some blood with it
Beat you down with the belt buckle, brass knuckles shit
Catalyst raps, crackers out to add to the stats
They're manufacturing gats to kill Latins and blacks
If it ain't each other it's black on Latin or Latin on black
Both get a box, one in the dirt, one up in Adirondacks
These rappers on wax, was growing up
Their mom, dad, even cat was on crack
Yeah get on and yap on a track
Call it what you want, black hating or mad rap
All that material crap ain't abstract, shit's mad wack
My flow is here to show what the difference is
Blind folks follow a book in which they don't really know the significance
Religion ain't feeding babies or curing the sicknesses
These Jehovah's Witnesses need to open some businesses
Spitting with no specificness
Blow the mischief and show prolificness
Ain't too many MCs that could go the distances
Father had it on since Matawan, fought Babylon
Sick of y'all, pick a wall for your brain to get splattered on
Whoever said bad is wrong, never slept on a pissy mattress
In a cell on the same tier there's a faggot on
Hawked 'cause you got ratted on
Rough said a burner is like a magic wand
Abracadabra, crackers is gone (they're gone)
Outta here (motherfucker)
Wish I had a magic wand (fuck is y'all niggas talking 'bout)
And all y'all fake rapping niggas (hit 'em in the head nigga)
Answer me this:
What makes ya cool to be a gangster?
What makes ya cool to be a thug?
What is it that's so cool about possibly
Getting hit in your head with a slug?
What makes ya cool to be hip hop?
What makes a grown man wanna crip walk?
What is the reason I swear to fucking God
That I seen George Bush with a pitchfork
[Talib Kweli:]
I slap niggas, kicking that wack nigga shit in my ear
My vision is clear, we see the same shit every year
People still shedding tears for names said in their prayers
We need change, the evidence here, but this is never what the president hear
They stick to their lies, and peddle their fear
And so I pimp the system, watch it shed its brassiere
Hunt 'em down, put 'em up on the mantle like the head of a deer
You can feel it in your heart when your enemy near, yeah
The moment that you bought this, the route you're taking is alternate
The way I'm walking and talking they call it ultimate, ultimate
Find your girl coordinates, all up in it, we intimate
She calling 'cause I get her wet, you balling, but you ignorant
I'm proficient in reading the body language, you illiterate
A little bit of class wouldn't hurt, you should consider it
I'm flashy with the lyrics, a nigga funny and serious
Spectacular vernacular, all the honeys is curious
Kweli, the one I'm running and I'm shining like the sun in it
Hitting like a ton of bricks since Hulk Hogan was Thunderlips
Never with the fronting shit, draw me some blood with it
Beat you down with the belt buckle, brass knuckles shit
