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Buried Alive (Version One)
“If you was in a pine box I would surely break the lock I’d jump right in and fall asleep Cause you are the death of me” The state of Hip Hop is on the rocks, Rappers rap about their cars and cocks. More than half no longer rhyme, But I would never change with these times. Recording tracks while laughing and coughing, Rap is no longer intact it’s laid back in a coffin. It’s grave excavated by the ones who created it, New rappers turning on their father’s, castrating it. Mainstream rap is just good beats and hooks, Not many artist are about writing lyrical books. They neglect the paper and pen. Needles of ink taint their skin. Different voices, same songs, no messages. Bad choices, came wrong and shared recklessness. How dare people who preach gangster lifestyles “try to give back” Guns, cars, clothes, jewelry, and money, you live that? I’m only addressing you simple folks, The rest of you should be taking notes. She is hurt, she is dying, she is dead. She’s reluctantly taking shots to the head. Wayne’s and Game’s Taking swag from gangs, Fronting like you own it, Knowing you don’t condone it. You are the reason our mother is on her back, The very reason why real life is what hip hop lacks. Rick Ross and Meek Mill are far from bringing 2Pac back. Your careers should be killed for making references like that. Too bad that Pac is in a pine box, I surely like to think alot, If he was still here where would we be, Would this be happening to the industry. 3 notes:
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