lirik lagu feat deacon the villain tonedeff – hypocrite (feat. deacon the villain) – tonedeff
all you hip-hop hypocrites talking like you know
come face to face and it’s a whole different story
shut up and stop talking, step, start walkin
they smile in your face… stab you when you’re not watching
all you hip-hop hypocrites talking like you know
come face to face and it’s a whole different story
they tell ya one thing, and then go do another/
its about time we blew your cover
hey, what’s a matter with the world today?/
there’s lots of hypocrites lurking, you can be sure to say/
see, plenty of times, i’ve been verbally burned or turned away/
by n-gg-s that haven’t earned their say, so, in my defense, i’ve learned to play/
cause i discerned decay in many crevices, heady rappers, biters
writers and editors…so i take preventative measures/
it’s shame that this game b-b-became a bit of a pain/
i’m dealing with strain by gettin my name sh-t on by n-gg-s that b-tch and complain/
consider the fame of underground rappers/
who stand to waste their fan bases if soundscan can catch up, like sales are bad luck/
some cats only support you when they believe they’ve bought you/
but abort you the minute you blow the f-ck up, or even start to/
no need argue, with these mean elitists/
this new breed of teens is conceited, thinking that they conceived the whole scene as you see it/
like history prior to them was deleted/
now, either you’re a conformist or an extremist/
my grievances are not with warrant because i’ve seen this… sh-tty element shine through/
by cynical individuals carrying rifles/
don’t be original, don’t even try to/
you’ll always sound like somebody else, till somebody else sounds like you/
be mindful of the powers that scheme/
i’m seeing these dudes that never paid dues with interviews and 2 page spreads in glossy magazines/
and i’ve had it with these fraudulent skeptics/
the type to say they wrecked sh-t, when the whole audience was on their guest list
v1 – deacon the villain
don’t you hate people without cars, that critique how you’re driving?/
what about them backseat rhymers, d-gg-n’ your one-liners?/
hip-hop-ocrites, they ain’t droppin sh-t, so they smell yours/
and tell you how bad it stinks! claiming you fell short/
of their goal. it’s like you’re at a stage show/
they ain’t throwing tomatoes, but full bottles of prego/
like not seeking their non-seasoned advice would lead to your detriment/
while they’re sounding like p. diddy with a speech impediment/
knockin your better sh-t! (y’all couldn’t have heard it right!)
usually, they are suburbanites that are living the urban life/
acting like your goal should be to be underground for life/
(aight, then pay our bills, b-tch, and turn on our lights!)
these motherf-ckas act like there’s a set of rules to follow/
well, check this…for you i got a set of jewels to swallow/
cause half the cats you praise, you only like because he’s cool with your other favorite rapper/
you only like him because he used to be eminem’s back-up/
took a picture, had it posterized and found a wall to tack up/
but when eminem blew up, you threw up/
dissed him, and became the next underground sensation’s new sl-t/
it’s all sad. to you, songs with sung hooks, they’re all bad/
but throw anticon’s wackest rapper on it, and you’re all glad/
this madness and inconsistency dulls my shine/
these b-tches would try to discredit visa if it rhymed/
(now chew on that line)
what do you do if you’re a d-ck, n-body likes you, and you never get light?
you start your own hip-hop website!
now you’re a big fish in a small pond, controlling all the facets/
your opinions disappear in the instant your browser crashes/
you underground babies cry the most, like you’re starting to teethe/
he’s fifteen with an opinion – but me? i’m an artist with beef/
“dude, tonedeff is all flow, he only talks fast”/
oh yeah? well, here’s a slow f-ck you for you’re stalled -ss”
v2b – deacon the villain
well, what do you do when your careers dying, nearly with its breath gone/
you start whining, complaining, claiming you’re getting slept on/
in the lab mixing elements for your so-called ‘best song’/
yelling, “i got the next bullet-single!” but billboard is wearing teflon/
cooking up food for thought, but when your meal drops/
and listeners don’t like your flavor, you pout that, “y’all don’t know real hip-hop!”
eat a d-ck, doc. your fame clock must be p-ssed its tick-tock/
now, punching soda cans is the only way you’ll hit-pop
Lirik lagu lainnya:
- lirik lagu black clint – a lover’s clown
- lirik lagu black clint – no time to kill
- lirik lagu black clint – a bad goodbye (clint black & wynonna)
- lirik lagu black clint – our kind of love
- lirik lagu black clint – drinkin’ songs & other logic
- lirik lagu black clint – tuckered out
- lirik lagu black clint – nothing’s news
- lirik lagu black clint – i don’t wanna tell you
- lirik lagu black clint – thinkin’ of you
- lirik lagu tony bennett – last night when we were young