[Tajai] To everyone who bit material and ran with it Punk I see you None of you can escape my view To all the off beat rappers, fuck your lyrics Learn your lyrics for you bust your lyrics Especially to niggaz who front like they freestylin' With that rearranged rehearsed verse you fuckin lames This goes to fake niggaz with corny shows I paid 40 bones just to watch you front and pose To all these wannabe dyke bitches actin like bitches All I wanted was some fire for this weed I twisted To the cats thinkin they touchin me That's absurd Oakland, Cali, perhaps you heard To the so-called theorists This here is about vibes and spirit And anybody can feel it when they hear it To the rap critic You fuckin herb Fuck you, your review and your SAT verb
[chorus: Goapele] Fakers Hosers Losers Haters
[Tajai] To these ol' new booty rappers screamin' back in the day You think old school is Special Ed and Big Daddy Kane To these video hoes swearin' that you models Then why you suckin for cash and gettin fucked with champagne bottles To the whiteboy rappers Keep it true I ain't forgot, there was a time when yo ass would get mine To this head claimin freestyle king, write a song I ain't tryin to hear you rhyme about the crowd all night long To the wannabe thug, thinkin' cornrows and tats Would it keep me, from breakin my foot up in yo ass? To these record execs hidin behind contracts Watch ya back, stay strapped, you snakes, you rats To these hangers-on and yes men Screamin about the guests list Guess what, you can get this dick To these revolutionaries who ain't went to Training Day You think the block's innocents can keep you out of harm's way?
[chorus: Goapele]
[Tajai] To these cowards posin with guns thinkin that's going to stop me Your soul is now my property, you should've shot me To these half naked hookers, man be starin Put some clothes on then we won't have nothing to stare at To these rappin ass show promoters, please don't flow Just introduce me and collect my dough To these ol' internet busters, come up and speak In fact, don't come up and speak, you might get your ass beat To the hype man, who don't know his rapper's rhymes Got 'em runnin' out of breath or leavin' blank spots half the time To these cats with these heavy chains heavyweight tools I went to college I'm tryin to pay to graduate school To these players, these hoe payers You ain't a pimp, you a trick We make 'em pay for the dick Now to these hoes that think they gonna get some of my bread I made this money and I'ma keep it right there
[chorus: Goapele]
[Tajai] To these quote an quote underground cats Guess what, you went commercial soon as you sold your first rap To the stations claimin there where hip hop lives Hip hop lives in the streets, you be the dick To the cat in the crowd who wanna wear a flown Why don't you go home or something, you're a fuckin clown To these Pac immitators, I hate to be a hater But he was one of the greatest, and you can never duplicate him To the dead beat daddies, you're not a man How you gone have your kids runnin 'round without a dad To the baby momma's tryna find a man Find yourself, you got more prince and matters in hand To anyone who got a problem with what I say The name is Tajai Send all drama this way To these jada folks screamin fuck hip hop Fuck you motherfucka, I love hip hop
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