[Intro:] "Excuse me, are you Hopsin?" "Yeah, why? Who wants to know?" "My mommy doesn't like me listening to you, but could you Like sing me one of those songs? Like, like one of the cool ones?" "Man I got to go man I'm not tryin to sing..." "Please?" "Alright, alright alright..."
[Hook:] It's the B Bop, my B Bop song Do the B Bop, ain't nothing wrong Come on! Shobedibinbang, shobedibinbang, bidung, oh baby! Shobedibinbang, shobedibinbang, bidung, oh baby!
[Verse 1:] Ayo it's time to bring the West back, pass me the exlax So I can shit on all these niggas when I wreck tracks Your flow ain't that ill, I think you should adjust that Homie I don't mean to be rude to you, it's just that You ain't the first nigga I seen with an attitude Up on the mic tryin' to explain what the gat'll do Your skills won't get you that place up in Malibu You better off tryin' to go slang with a bag of fruit And leave it up to me, I got the bubblies I'll do in an hour what would take your ass a couple days My contacts make the ladies fall in love with me He's the joker of rap is what these motherfuckers say I'm slightly psychotic and idiotic but modest whenever spotted So logically I'm a profit, face it niggas you just suck And as far as your game, it ain't never had legs to step up
[Hook]
[Verse 2:] Man I'm tired of the ghetto, hope I make it out this place Ill niggas running around like an ape up out the cage And it ain't about the change, man these things are not the same All these killers wanna leave my brain laying on the pave And I ain't did nothing, all these little kids cussing Learning from their big cousins how to go and get stuck in A correctional facility, messing up their liberty Acting a fool making unnecessary enemies Yes it's very weird to me, I did not get caught in it I was into rap, for some reason I love the art of it I ain't never drank or smoked because I'm smarter than That and I didn't want to grow up to be what my father is Gotta make a living, got plans of moving out the hood, not stayin in it I hate these cheap apartments, and these vague complaining attendants Roaches in the kitchen but I ain't really trippin, I'll be rolling in a minute, singin
[Hook]
[Verse 3:] On the mic I burn niggas and turn rappers to singers I learn that on the day I confirmed I was the slayer I serve packs of these haters my words actually rape 'em And where's daddy to save him? My urge has to be fatal Up in this music shit the sky's the limit for rising in it Long as I'm consistent and keep on using my eyes as gimmicks I'mma be the talk of the town, walking around Like "Yes this rap game, I'm the boss of it now"
[Hook]
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
