调：A major•
Verse 1
use it, they call it songs
If a rapper doesn't sing,
well they call it wrong
While Remington raps on,
coming on strong
Critics let their face grow long
Face my music for once I doubt
if you can
You've been brainwashed too
Verse 2
much as a public man
Verse 3
T.v.'s your pet your radio set, I scan
Popular music gives crap jams,
you've been blinded, narrow minded
You know rap is big with the
crowds nothing's behind it
They just dance if they like
it, so they clock it
Don't be misled by my size when I
Interlude 1
rock it
Verse 4
Verse 5
A
G
A
Mr. Top-50 Biznizman talking
so slick
Don't like our kinda music
so he gives us the pip
Why a lie rappers only flip their lip
Both sides of the globe call this music hip
Verse 6
of pop to make discs
While big men fake it with
crapoid artists
Discotheques' answer
ain't raps they ask for
A quick jam, pay wannabees, a few plaster
Verse 7
ghetto blaster
Pipedreams about gold,
but big men go faster
But you've hyped the type of music
that holds you in a grip
When you pay this critics
give it a miss
Dissin' the circuit,
you say "Why, what this is!"
'Cause you rock like a kid,
I gotta do it right
Verse 8
A
Interlude 2
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Dm
C
A
D
Dm
C
A
C
A
Verse 9
People go with the crowd like a herd
The bits, the music, the whole words
Verse 10
Copy the style without own effort
then I must be the herd man
Inventing fresh jams firsthand
You said it was nothing, not worth a damn
Too hard, too noisy,
Verse 11
my show a five or ten
Now you wonder,
guess how we did the good hook
It's the guitar, DJ, bass,
the drummer's foot
Crumb up y'all,
D
Dm
C
you never get these roots
Outro 1
C
A
D
Dm
C
A
D
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