Nightclub Fight Club - The Death of Hip-Hop | Текст песни

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• Nightclub Fight Club
• The Death of Hip-Hop

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Hook (KSol, JP):
Hip-hop is dead, done and over
get on the phone, the family needs closure
21 gun salute for the soldier
Hip-hop is dead
Hip-hop is dead, done and through now
Fire up the beat, we need somethin new now
Nightclub Fight Club, here to show you how
Hip-hop is dead

Post-Hook (Mike):
Punchline, do not cross
now I'm the boss
if you wanna get with Nightclub Fight Club
get tighter or get your outline chalked

Mike:
"Hey, back up buddy, this is completely off-limits"
I'm a detective, I just got on to the premises
"The premise is, hip-hop just got shot,
one bullet in him and a number of em in some cops"
Thanks, that's all I needed, were you first on the scene?
"Yeah", Well go ahead home, your done, just try to get some sleep
I got background knowledge on this like The Blueprint
y'all niggas acting like your age the size of your shoe print
I see on the yellow tape that 'police' has been crossed out
and 'punch' has been put in its place, along with 'I'm the boss now'
I can see it in my head now, the crime be like Mardi Gras
flashes bangs and bleeding due to shots makin everybody raw
something's wrong: if hip-hop's dead then someone's gotta take it's place
then I bet whoever stands to benefit would be second in the race
now just I gotta find out who the one is killing rap, punk and more
holy shit, that's it! I fear it's clearly the work of the crunkcore

KSol:
Now judging from how recent the wound is
this looked like a struggle, however the truth is
this was a planned death and yes I can prove this
take a look at hip-hop and the lifestyle he's living in
with the cash, and the drugs, thirty seconds of fame
a stupid little dance "got him to the game"
he did what the people wanted, he was a slave
his actual talent sent to the grave
judging from the broken nose he couldn't face off to crunkcore
couldn't see, his eyes had mace on em
chest bruised from punchlines the size of a baseball
a leg is gone probably from napalm
look at the corpse, this is more than manslaughter
he's missing a leg crunkcore couldn't go harder
hip-hop will go down as a musical martyr
but I wonder how crunkcore could just kill his father

JP:
Ive dug some deep ditches in my long career
But I fear that it's gonna be a quick job here
Cuz the game has been diggin its own grave for years
No eulogies either, ain't no place for tears
Hack acts' wack tracks start a suicidal spiral
And its gifts are up the river, like these rappers in denial
What's left? A pile of those low brow flows about hos and gettin low?
I guess thats how it goes
But smile! Cuz Nightclub dont need you
Rappers have Cialis and they still won’t come half as hard as we do
And they wanted to defeat us? Jesus
Hand em a pair of Night-vision goggles and I doubt they could see us
They better get a thermal camera instead
Cuz when we spit it’s so hot, you’d see us glowing in red
But even then they couldnt approach, so let’s have a toast
To the memory of hip-hop, cuz the casket is closed.

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