lirik lagu stop playin - ras kass, rj payne & havoc
[intro: raekwon]
labels do not care about talent anymore. it’s about your popularity, so the music industry has changed drastically because of that. so when i was growing up, i would put on the radio and hear talented people. when you guys put on the radio now, you hear popular people. right? and that’s the difference
talkin’ sh~t, n~gga! yeah! yeah! hey yo!
[verse 1: raekwon]
see, my n~ggas, they writin’ exact
no time to gas, you now burn up the track
incite a riot, then char up your plaques
shoot at your boss, i’m the voice of the pack
this for the g winners who stay g’d up in the rentals
floatin’ low key somewhere off the ocean in venice
wine drinkin’, how the f~ck these labels be thinkin’?
until a bullet fly right through the air inside his lincoln
we smarter now, some of us is martyrs now
flying charters now, we used to be artists, call you bloggers now
been 30 years since we sat in the stairs
just some cum babies tryin’ to get on air, now cheers
the blessings came when the lessons came
yep! ownin’ someone and blowin’, thanks for knowin’
salute my legends in the street, platinum
go ahead and dab ’em and throw a bracelet, the god from staten
shallah!
[chorus 1]
it ain’t a game, stop playin’
music industry don’t like hip~hop, playin’
djs and playlists should just stop hatin’ (word!)
b~tch stop playin’, b~tch stop playin’
[verse 2: ras kass]
you can buy a celebrity but you can’t buy bars
so why would a martian need a hollywood star?
we was the molly gods mashin’ bollywood broads
throw molotovs and smoke, don’t party with y’all frauds
major record deal, still stay to film, n~gga
a lot of y’all act like slaves to chill with a vulture
he own your masters and treat you like he own you
sh~t hit the fan, what the f~ck you gon’ do?
i saw it comin’, stole my own masters allegedly
i will k!ll the colonel for his recipe
blackball, threaten me, now i’m gon’ sue
i’m tryna get by, you still tryna one~two
bunch of old bums performin’ on a showcase
’bout that peloton life, goin’ no place
beggin’ for a slow rate to get a record to rotate
then the donkeys cryin’ ’cause the grammy winners snowflakes (grammys so white)
you sacrifice your own mother for the prorate
fumble the bag and get on the gram
beggin’ your fans to donate (f~ck ’em)
no way, i’m a man with his own opinion
i don’t hate, sh~t, street n~gga and a backpacker
jas’ bourne pack the black strapper
pint of cognac missin’ the cap to attract cappers
aka i’m slappin’ a wack rapper
what you think you insultin’ me callin’ us underground?
we found hollow earth, lames swallow dirt
this game a million dollars like wallo worth
and i don’t think n0body livin’ spit a hotter verse
[verse 3: freeway]
free!
bearded legend straight from the property, the anomaly
i’m talented and i’m popular, my parents proud of me
my sixteens like binoculars, they show you how to see
mobster sh~t, take the phantom to the opera
and my youngsters grip handguns or they choppers
and my opps in the audience, they’ll definitely spray the crowd for me
spit one hundred rounds for me, walk n~ggas down for me
i’ll spit one hundred rounds for them and walk n~ggas down for them
walk n~ggas down for them, no, i’ll never let my guys drown
lifeguard show them how to swim
show them how to fend for theyself, earn they wealth
on they own don corleone sh~t, i am him
first rapper who beard holds a diamond
fresh out that water with sharks in it, we divin’
n~gga! we in the jungle with hyenas
fresh out the trenches like great adventures, we slidin’
and y’all hidin’, y’all n~ggas better stay inside when
me and my n~ggas come through my ring
we kick your door in, twin f&ns, siamese
[chorus 2]
it ain’t a game, stop playin’
music industry don’t like hip~hop, playin’
djs and playlists should just stop hatin’ (word!)
kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug, then i’m shakin’
[verse 4: rj payne]
if you listen these cowards hatin’
first off we don’t need your permission or validation
we’ve been back in the kitchen, it’s calibratin’
we became one, n~ggas see, this is amalgamation
oh! got a tec with the rubber grip
label burn who? tell them executives suck a d~ck
them bullets keep comin’ consecutive, what a trip
try to take a n~gga publish and f~ck it, your truck will flip (uhh!)
i’ve adapted, i found a rhythm
it’s a fact, n~gga, we ain’t trappin’ your algorithm
give me a pound of ism, you’ll drown in wisdom
i got bars, n~gga, this type of sh~t ain’t been found in prison
so much bogus sh~t in the game
truckload of jewelry but got no ownership of your name
they get the budget then they go blow this sh~t on the chain
how a platinum rapper broke, i hope you n~ggas explain
balenciaga, prada fashion, gucci
none of that bullsh~t don’t hide the fact that you goofy
leave the hood ballin’ and drive back in a hooptie
once these labels f~ck you they don’t get sidetracked with the groupies
n~gga!
[chorus 1]
it ain’t a game, stop playin’
music industry don’t like hip~hop, playin’
djs and playlists should just stop hatin’ (word!)
b~tch stop playin’
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