[Lyric] Hip-Hop (dead prez)

[Intro]
Fake (fake) records (records)
Uh, uh, uh, 1-2, 1-2
Uh, uh, 1-2, 1-2, uh, uh
All my dogs

[Chorus: dead prez]
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, uh

[Verse 1: M-1]
One thing bout music when it hit you feel no pain
White folks say it controls your brain
I know better than that, that's game
Man, we ready for that
Two soldiers, head of the pack
Matter fact, who got the gat?
And where my army at?
Rather attack than not react
Back to beats, it don't reflect on how many records get sold
On sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll
Whether your project's put on hold
In the real world; these just people with ideas
They just like me and you when the smoke and camera disappear
Again the real world; it's bigger than all these fake-ass records
When poor folks got the millions and my woman's disrespected
If you check 1-2, my word of advice to you is just relax
Just do what you got to do; if that don't work then kick the facts
If you a fighter, rider, biter, flame-igniter, crowd-exciter
Or you wanna just get high then just say it
But then if you a liar-liar, pants on fire, wolf-crier, agent with a wire
I'm gon' know it when I play it
[Chorus: dead prez]
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, uh

[Verse 2: stic.man]
Who shot Biggie Smalls, if we don't get them, they gon' get us all
I'm down for running up on them crackers in their city hall
We ride for y'all, all my dogs, stay real
Nigga don't think these record deals gon' feed your seeds and pay your bills
Because they not (Uh-uh)
MC's get a little bit of love and think they hot
Talking bout how much money they got;
Nigga, all y'all records sound the same
I'm sick of that fake-thug-R&B-rap-scenario, all day on the radio
Same scenes in the video
Monotonous material
Y'all don't hear me though
These record labels slang our tapes like dope
You can be next in line and signed and still be writing rhymes and broke
You would rather have a Lexus or justice?
A dream or some substance?
A Bimmer, a necklace or freedom?
Still a nigga like me don't playa-hate, I just stay awake
This real hip-hop
And it don't stop 'til we get the po-po off the block
They call it...
[Chorus: dead prez]
Hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, hip
It's bigger than hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop

[Outro: dead prez]
DP's got that crazy shit
We keep it crunker, John Blaze-in' shit (What?)
DP's got that crazy shit, we keep it crunker
John Blaze-in' shit (What a nigga wanna do?)
DP's got that crazy shit, we keep it crunker
John Blaze-in' shit (One two, one two)
DP's got that crazy shit, we keep it crunker
John Blaze-in' shit
DP's got that crazy shit, we keep it crunker
They call it
Fake (fake) records (records)