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Coup - Hip 2 Tha Skeme Lyrics

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Chorus

I get it done

Make it one make it two make it three

Right before it happens

Make it four make it five make it 6 7 8 9

Ten

Come on mother*****a we can do it again

Repeat

See I aint never had shit

But my strife and my game and my life

And all thems is just hand downs from my granddaddy lidvens

For them whose black folks ever came to here

To steal and hustling food stamps for that nine to 4 caddy

How many days can I stretch this box of grits

Shit never quits Im a brother

Pitching fits or pitching shit

I use my mouth or a leg muscle anything to make the rent,

Yo give up the hustle.

I know the us economy and I could run it

Im about to make these four dollars into 4 hundred

Aint nothing happening but this serious game

While they got billions in the bank

We just got money on the deck

And when we got fresh rims we on top,

On top of what when the kitchens tables on hock

Gun un*****ed but we seen it on the past

Make a fast dash for the cash be gangsta leaning on your ass

Twentys and tens its all about making ends

No need to sin to uplift a california living

But Id rear cos err I remember as a tot mr ogs

Skank you mother*****ars with the glocks

And now the rocks is in my pockets

And my spots hot like the haiwaiian tropics

A taskforce topic cos this ones a cya

Even though the yay is brought in by the cia

See Im a mother*****as thats done some dirt for my meal ticket

But I learned quit you gots to deal with it

Well I dealed for twentytwo*****ing years

You damn straight my homies been laid when we all shed a tear

And its clear to my ear I had to learn that knowledge

Cos after 12th grade I had to say ***** college

And the knowledge no longer will I waste my time

The chrome was stuck in my ear

But Im stuck to the ground

Im steady mobbing

Back to the police station,

They checking me but its inflation thats doing this taking

No hesistating cant be waiting let me do my thing

I was hooked like a fiend but now Im hip to tha skeme

Chorus

I heard recognized game when its in your face

Im spitting the game so close to you

You could feel the wet trace

If everybody in the hood had a phd

Youd say that dr flip that burger hell it good for me

200thousand brothers watching one mind one place to go

Aint no revolution they just walking to the liquor store

Here take a swigger so its quicker round the niggerroe

Just wanna get rich the rigamole I been here before

A typical ho aint really no different

Except that she would know that caint no prostitute

Can become a pimp up in this system

Itd be more drama than a soap opera daytime spot

But aint no twist up in this cemetery plot

Since nineteen fiftyfour

Is been hustling for that dough

My girl been putting out cross that wick like shes a specialized pro

This shit is getting steep

Im getting ill ready to kill

The only thing I can inherit is an overdue bill

Now its six in the morning

I stride to the ride

As I glide down the street

I cant get to park ?

Cos my gas is kissing heat

Im not yet free

But you dont hear me though

Unlesss you creeping soap as my drive through window

Now if you wondering bout my *****ed up fickle frown

Is cos Im thinking bout how the wealth dont trickle down

Listen to that beat nickle pound is my homies in the back

Pass the nickle bag around and Im looking at the street

Through the fogged up windows knowing if I was walking

Id be smelling stench or piss or stale ***** in your window

I ask when those stores get closed down

A system that eats itself got it looking like a ghost town

No proof of purchase hear my essence purchase proof

Analyze how they *****ed us like if I was dr ruth

Im on proof with the truth they started with nothing

Robbed and ganked and killed

Aint no po folks getting rich

Less some caps is getting picked

Except for a couple of mother*****as who done live their

Token seen lifestyles of the rich and famous

Front page of the magazine but thats a known

Trick tell them suck their own dick

Im hip to the skeme

My fist will bring up the whole clique.

Chorus

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