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Текст (слова) песни: Erick Sermon f Redman, Tre - Street Hop

[Nas sample - repeat 2X]
This ain`t rappin, this is street hop
Now get up off yo` (ass) like yo` seats hot

[Erick Sermon]
Yeah, Redman uh, E. Sermon, Tre

[Verse One: Redman]
Yeah, yo
I`m Doc, Brick City, know how I rock
I`m hip-hop, I live up in the rim shop
I blow out my tires then I buy some mo`
My car`s Ying Yang`n the way it sit LOWW
A little Anita, a little Vandross
I got two guns to give you secondhand smoke
I`m no joke, this ain`t Hanna Barbera
It`s the Bricks, Mandela on Anteras
In my rear mirror, a freak approach
Knew she wasn`t first class cause her bag was Coach
She was like, "Redman! Buy me boots."
So I, bought her Timbs, and a army suit
Nobody want it with Doc, you smell me Duke?
Front page, smokin L`s in The Daily News
Y`all cats big time, but the tops are turned
When you in the same realm as, Doc and Serm`, yeahhh

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
"This ain`t rappin, this is street hop
Now get up off yo` (ass) like yo` seats hot"
(And if the record is hot say one two) one two (one two)

[Verse Two: Erick Sermon]
Yeah, yeah, yo, uhh
E-Dub in the flesh, no replacement
I still bring trunk funk from the basement (who are you?)
Peeeimp MC, my style`s mackadocious
Boy, ask her-on who the dopest
E - steppin to me, better-a think twice
I`m nice, the outcome be "The Passion of Christ"
You get ripped, you ain`t equipped to rock with the vandal
(Yeah) I change your Timberlands to sandals
Thug MC`s, thinkin they hard
When they walk around the block with 6 bodyguards
Yo, I`m a big dawg (grrr) you a pup (arf!)
It`s like comparin a car to a truck
What, you spend dough for airplay when you network
That ain`t fair, that ain`t the way the street work
This is street hop, nuttin about pride
For you, I`ma keep them ambulances outside, you dig?

[Chorus]

[Erick Sermon]
All them rappers that can`t rhyme (can`t rhyme)
What is you doin is a crime
Sayin that garbage all the time
{*chk-chk-BOOM*} Word up, yeah

[Verse Three: Tre]
That`s how I`m livin, still a gangsta, still a pimpin mack
All around hustler, 9 to 5 flippin crack
Tryin to stay up out of prison, steady spittin raps
Not to mention spittin scraps, don`t mix your puddy-tat with that
{*meowww*} Dhark Citi, put it on your map
Don`t ride through without your pistol, put it on your lap
And I don`t look for beef but don`t think that I won`t attack
Have you in a coffin momma like, "He don`t belong in that"
You shoulda thought of that before the fact
Why a (nigga) roll the dice, lose all they money, then they want it back?
But that`s a bunch of crap...
.. but f`real jyo, don`t gamble witcha life, cause ain`t no comin back

[Chorus] - repeat to fade

 

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