Thiz Iz Hip Hop (feat. Bumpy Knuckles)

[Verse 1: Noreaga]

Take soft white and turn it into tan hard

That shit is chemistry, at least a form of science

I was raised by the wolves but the dogs my alliance

My hood used to call me "Papi Shoot-a-lot"

Cause all I really did was sell coke and just shoot a lot

Increase the crime rate every time I drop a new tape in the Tri-State

My stick Pyrex

Niggas getting shot up and locked up for directs

Hand-to-hand, that was something I enjoyed to do

I told my workers nine-to-five I'm employing you

You could do the nine-to-five or the ten-to-six

I'm twenty five-eight, holmes, that's my shift

Them niggas out of bounds like a referee

I'm a chef with the coke, no recipe

I could show you to your grave, that's your destiny

So them so-called shooters don't mess with me

[Hook: Noreaga]

This is hip-hop, this is how it's supposed to sound

Don't dance to it, just hear the sound

Nah, you can't dougie to this

You could only get high and get gully to this

[Verse 2: Noreaga]

See, I'm a bodybuilder with the fly shit I spit

Change my whole sculpture, rose wine exquisite

Nore's the hurricane, cold like a blizzard

Sodom, Gomorrah, Expedition Ford Explorer

Cover me, lay low

This help when we play God

Cocaine on steroids, call the shit A-Rod

New York play yard, painting like Picasso

This shit colossal, spit like Soppo

Catch me in a Tahoe, G-Shock rubber watch

Newport smoker, Googoun drinker

Fuck your vest, nigga, cause I'm aiming for your thinker

What up to all my niggas hand-to-hand in the morning

Doing it, yeah, and got it locked like a vice grip

What up to all my niggas that's scrambling on the night shift

The night life with the right white

White tops got colors like Mike & Ikes

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Bumpy Knuckles]

Talk stupid out your ass, I'll blast

No cash, free throwing, Steve Nash

So fast, see blowing

Bitch nigga, you scared, Deebowing

That bum don't stop, he keep going

Leave you dead in your birthday suit

From downstairs I shoot

Through the roof, bada bing, through the California King

Put the money on the table

It's mine, nigga, you boxed in

Freddie Foxxx and Noreaga, the locked-in

Goons on the Voltron, turning the volts on

.45 Colts on, military coats on

Hip-hop general,.38 snub by the genitals

That's spitting; no casing, defacing

Got green like Boston

You're a team Ben Rothman

Once I leave you in the coffin, shot

[Hook]