syllables
It is not about lyrics anymore
It’s about a hot beat and a catchy hook
If we gotta dumb down our style and A-B-C it
Then so be it, ‘cause nowadays these kids, geez
Don’t give a shit 'bout lyrics
All they wanna hear is a beat and that's it
Long as they can go to the club and get blitzed
Pick up some chicks and get some digits
And the DJ's playin' them hits
"Oh, this my jam! This my shit!
We don't know a word to a verse, all we know is the chorus
‘Cause the chorus repeats the same four words for us
And the song's ginormous, the whole formula’s switched
‘Cause we don’t know anymore what are hits"
Is it the beat? Is it the rap?
Is it a finger snap or the same 808 clap?
And how do we adapt and get TRL votes
When 13-year-olds control the remotes?
And Ashlee's got a brand new nose
We gotta put some new em-pha-sis on our syl-la-la-bles
If the emphasis on the compact disc
Is in the beat, then I’m gon' feature Em and get rich
And let Dre mix the shit and drive off in the Range Ro'
‘Cause everywhere I go they love the "bling bling" flow
Bang bang, look at the way my chain glow
The ring on my fing’ cost your man a lot of dough
Oh, the fuck am I bustin' my brain fo'?
It's just the way the game go, oh, it takes two to tango
You call this a lame flow? You bought the shit
I guess you to blame, too, I just found an angle
No more reality flow
I’m tryna time my album droppin' with a reality show
Cock the MAC-11 in front of Hot 97
And call my publicist, tell her we in press heaven
No one gives a shit except some kids
That just got into sex on the Internet
So you want the chat room or the house in Malibu, Em?
Your emphasis is on the wrong syl-la-la-ble
They said 30's the new 20
Funny, must mean 40's the new 30, interesting
'Cause ever since then it's been in a sense an extension
For veteran rappers that are better than half
Of the shit coming out right now, it's all trash
The torch is gonna burn out before it gets passed
Jay said it’s his last, then 50 and Em
Then what? Detox drops, what do we got then?
So now our whole camps is running around
Scramblin' over what to do
Gamblin', and every time we put a record out
Just lookin' for that hook (Wait, Dre, look!)
Shorty, I love you
And you love me too
We were meant to be
‘Cause, shorty, you love me
And I love you too
And I promise I’ll be true to you
Go shorty, it's your birthday
You made it just in time to hear my wordplay
It's the kid that flip-flows who used to flip O's
And run G for days, you should see how I get hoes
I'm international, I get my dick licked 'round the globe
I'm sick right into shows, ridin' on lolos
Puffin' on coco, my bitch in Manolos
Don’t fuck with the dodo’s, that's slang for dumb hoes
I'm playin', I ain't got time to joke, joke
You fuck around, you could get your ass smoked, Loc
It's not a game, me, B, I ain't playin'
Beat behind me playin', so you don't hear anyway
You don’t hear what I’m sayin'
Me fin-nini-na, fee-fi-dididee-yay
Just give me my check and I’ll be on my way
Sunny, bunny, money and funny
You ain't even listenin' and I just took your money, ha
There once was a time everywhere you turned
Shady/Aftermath was all you heard
But they say 50 sang too much, and Em got soft
And they say Dre just fell the fuck off
Well, fuck the fuck-offs, all y'all eat salt
Be mad, we back, fresh up outta the vault
Oh! New syl-la-la-bles, eat ball, you fuck-offs
Your house, your bitch, I'm getting sucked off
East, South, Midwest, even up North
Fallin' victim to wax, spittin', bring out the white chalk
All for the gingerbread, we get it and get lost
Catch me if you can, I’m runnin' past while y'all walk
Shady made me for bringin' it back
'Fore the history of rap is gone with a snap
A snare and a clap, what happened to just spittin'
About livin' in the mothafuckin' city you at?
In the grimiest condition, I breathe in drama
King Mathers and Cash, me, that's free karma
I'm everything, anything you can never be
It's a hidden rhyme of the month deep in the beef
I speak with a piece, no peace on my mind
I repeat every evil deed done of mine
No rest contest, contract to sign
By blood, I'm in this squad for life
Hear about out my windpipes and I just chime
I'm the reason you guys won't say that line
I’m crazy, renegade like Em and Jay-Z
I’m Rosemary’s baby, I want you to hate me
Shorty, I love you
And you love me too
We were meant to be
‘Cause, shorty, you love me
And I love you too
And I promise I’ll be true to you
It is not about lyrics anymore
It is not about lyrics anymore
It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
Nobody gives a damn about them syllables
Syl-la-la-bles, whatever they are
I don't care if you gotta rhyme schmo, mo, Joe, toe and glow
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some