If Hip Hop Was a Crime Lyrics
| Song | If Hip Hop Was a Crime |
| Artist | Lone Catalysts |
| Album | Hip Hop |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : J. Rawls, Sanders | |
| If hip hop was a crime, I'd be a felon, sellin | |
| To all the conscious dope addicts, tragic, gotta have it | |
| Get no static, rhymes get ripped automatic | |
| Spray you from your feet to your cabbage | |
| Lyrically hit you with the spiritual, infrared won't miss | |
| Police lookin for the Catalyst | |
| Hah, usually on the blocks in your neighborhood | |
| When the flavor's good clientele's humunguous | |
| Pittsburgh, Columbus | |
| And all the other cities in the USA | |
| Networkin, soon to be worldwide for certain | |
| I know it's hurtin, competition creatin envy | |
| Sure they wanna end me when they see me in a Benzi | |
| Throw salt in my game, in my face act friendly | |
| That's why I play em close till they ass get ghost | |
| Ain't no love lost here, crampin my poster' | |
| This game is cutthroat, so I'ma aim at the utmost | |
| Spot, not knowing if I'm gonna get caught | |
| Be up in heaven, openin for Big and Tupac | |
| But that's the nature of it, some live, some kick the bucket | |
| I'd be a damn fool not to love it | |
| Right? | |
| [CHORUS x2] | |
| Imagine that, if hip hop was a crime | |
| Would you stick and move, would you sell dimes? | |
| Or would you switch sides and play the role of po nine | |
| Blockin me from the go line | |
| Preventin me from gettin mine | |
| [J. Sands] | |
| Everything is kosher, slayin punk MC's with my toaster | |
| Itchy finger on trigger got my rep bigger | |
| You should see em shiver knowin down deep I deliver | |
| Bulls eye, direct hit with hollow tip lyric | |
| Like the bully of the block all the kids fear it | |
| J. Sands is untouchable, how you hear it | |
| Echo wind through the hallways where I be all days | |
| Hustlin, ain't no small plate cause niggas always | |
| Wanna plot against the local cat with props | |
| Makin it harder to set up my shop upon the block | |
| Like a martyr I be in this war until I drop | |
| But if it ain't the haters it's the goddamn cops | |
| Stressin me, just so they can get some cream off the top | |
| Testin me, so now I gotta scheme, call the team | |
| Dante, [Name], J. Rawls and Raheem | |
| The ill syndicate, quick to light up the scene | |
| No prints, squeaky clean, toss the heat in the stream | |
| Rendez-vous somewhere serene around 12:15 | |
| See, if you don't hold it down, no one will hold it for ya | |
| So be sure to have a alibi plus a good lawyer | |
| [CHORUS x2] | |
| [J. Sands] | |
| See, niggas know my status, ghetto celeb' kingpin | |
| A hip hop's fiend friend who always seen in | |
| The fly b-boy attire receivin | |
| Praises from the holiest to the heathens | |
| It's all good cause what I provide is pleasin | |
| Comfortable, something your mind can ease in | |
| One try, then you find out the reason | |
| Why I got addicts for every season | |
| Summer, spring, winter, fall and even | |
| Leap years, you want that shit, then peep here | |
| You need $10 and some change for the exchange | |
| Then you'll have the ill sounds pumpin in your range | |
| Or your walkman, head bouncin type strange | |
| That's when you start to realize that your life is rearranged | |
| Don't go to work no more cause all you want is the pure | |
| Hip hop from the MC connoisseur | |
| So now you on missions headed to the record store | |
| Cop the product and beam up like never before | |
| Now you're hooked for life and there's no escapin us | |
| Cause one hit was too many, a million not enough | |
| [CHORUS x2] |
| zuo qu : J. Rawls, Sanders | |
| If hip hop was a crime, I' d be a felon, sellin | |
| To all the conscious dope addicts, tragic, gotta have it | |
| Get no static, rhymes get ripped automatic | |
| Spray you from your feet to your cabbage | |
| Lyrically hit you with the spiritual, infrared won' t miss | |
| Police lookin for the Catalyst | |
| Hah, usually on the blocks in your neighborhood | |
| When the flavor' s good clientele' s humunguous | |
| Pittsburgh, Columbus | |
| And all the other cities in the USA | |
| Networkin, soon to be worldwide for certain | |
| I know it' s hurtin, competition creatin envy | |
| Sure they wanna end me when they see me in a Benzi | |
| Throw salt in my game, in my face act friendly | |
| That' s why I play em close till they ass get ghost | |
| Ain' t no love lost here, crampin my poster' | |
| This game is cutthroat, so I' ma aim at the utmost | |
| Spot, not knowing if I' m gonna get caught | |
| Be up in heaven, openin for Big and Tupac | |
| But that' s the nature of it, some live, some kick the bucket | |
| I' d be a damn fool not to love it | |
| Right? | |
| CHORUS x2 | |
| Imagine that, if hip hop was a crime | |
| Would you stick and move, would you sell dimes? | |
| Or would you switch sides and play the role of po nine | |
| Blockin me from the go line | |
| Preventin me from gettin mine | |
| J. Sands | |
| Everything is kosher, slayin punk MC' s with my toaster | |
| Itchy finger on trigger got my rep bigger | |
| You should see em shiver knowin down deep I deliver | |
| Bulls eye, direct hit with hollow tip lyric | |
| Like the bully of the block all the kids fear it | |
| J. Sands is untouchable, how you hear it | |
| Echo wind through the hallways where I be all days | |
| Hustlin, ain' t no small plate cause niggas always | |
| Wanna plot against the local cat with props | |
| Makin it harder to set up my shop upon the block | |
| Like a martyr I be in this war until I drop | |
| But if it ain' t the haters it' s the goddamn cops | |
| Stressin me, just so they can get some cream off the top | |
| Testin me, so now I gotta scheme, call the team | |
| Dante, Name, J. Rawls and Raheem | |
| The ill syndicate, quick to light up the scene | |
| No prints, squeaky clean, toss the heat in the stream | |
| Rendezvous somewhere serene around 12: 15 | |
| See, if you don' t hold it down, no one will hold it for ya | |
| So be sure to have a alibi plus a good lawyer | |
| CHORUS x2 | |
| J. Sands | |
| See, niggas know my status, ghetto celeb' kingpin | |
| A hip hop' s fiend friend who always seen in | |
| The fly bboy attire receivin | |
| Praises from the holiest to the heathens | |
| It' s all good cause what I provide is pleasin | |
| Comfortable, something your mind can ease in | |
| One try, then you find out the reason | |
| Why I got addicts for every season | |
| Summer, spring, winter, fall and even | |
| Leap years, you want that shit, then peep here | |
| You need 10 and some change for the exchange | |
| Then you' ll have the ill sounds pumpin in your range | |
| Or your walkman, head bouncin type strange | |
| That' s when you start to realize that your life is rearranged | |
| Don' t go to work no more cause all you want is the pure | |
| Hip hop from the MC connoisseur | |
| So now you on missions headed to the record store | |
| Cop the product and beam up like never before | |
| Now you' re hooked for life and there' s no escapin us | |
| Cause one hit was too many, a million not enough | |
| CHORUS x2 |
| zuò qǔ : J. Rawls, Sanders | |
| If hip hop was a crime, I' d be a felon, sellin | |
| To all the conscious dope addicts, tragic, gotta have it | |
| Get no static, rhymes get ripped automatic | |
| Spray you from your feet to your cabbage | |
| Lyrically hit you with the spiritual, infrared won' t miss | |
| Police lookin for the Catalyst | |
| Hah, usually on the blocks in your neighborhood | |
| When the flavor' s good clientele' s humunguous | |
| Pittsburgh, Columbus | |
| And all the other cities in the USA | |
| Networkin, soon to be worldwide for certain | |
| I know it' s hurtin, competition creatin envy | |
| Sure they wanna end me when they see me in a Benzi | |
| Throw salt in my game, in my face act friendly | |
| That' s why I play em close till they ass get ghost | |
| Ain' t no love lost here, crampin my poster' | |
| This game is cutthroat, so I' ma aim at the utmost | |
| Spot, not knowing if I' m gonna get caught | |
| Be up in heaven, openin for Big and Tupac | |
| But that' s the nature of it, some live, some kick the bucket | |
| I' d be a damn fool not to love it | |
| Right? | |
| CHORUS x2 | |
| Imagine that, if hip hop was a crime | |
| Would you stick and move, would you sell dimes? | |
| Or would you switch sides and play the role of po nine | |
| Blockin me from the go line | |
| Preventin me from gettin mine | |
| J. Sands | |
| Everything is kosher, slayin punk MC' s with my toaster | |
| Itchy finger on trigger got my rep bigger | |
| You should see em shiver knowin down deep I deliver | |
| Bulls eye, direct hit with hollow tip lyric | |
| Like the bully of the block all the kids fear it | |
| J. Sands is untouchable, how you hear it | |
| Echo wind through the hallways where I be all days | |
| Hustlin, ain' t no small plate cause niggas always | |
| Wanna plot against the local cat with props | |
| Makin it harder to set up my shop upon the block | |
| Like a martyr I be in this war until I drop | |
| But if it ain' t the haters it' s the goddamn cops | |
| Stressin me, just so they can get some cream off the top | |
| Testin me, so now I gotta scheme, call the team | |
| Dante, Name, J. Rawls and Raheem | |
| The ill syndicate, quick to light up the scene | |
| No prints, squeaky clean, toss the heat in the stream | |
| Rendezvous somewhere serene around 12: 15 | |
| See, if you don' t hold it down, no one will hold it for ya | |
| So be sure to have a alibi plus a good lawyer | |
| CHORUS x2 | |
| J. Sands | |
| See, niggas know my status, ghetto celeb' kingpin | |
| A hip hop' s fiend friend who always seen in | |
| The fly bboy attire receivin | |
| Praises from the holiest to the heathens | |
| It' s all good cause what I provide is pleasin | |
| Comfortable, something your mind can ease in | |
| One try, then you find out the reason | |
| Why I got addicts for every season | |
| Summer, spring, winter, fall and even | |
| Leap years, you want that shit, then peep here | |
| You need 10 and some change for the exchange | |
| Then you' ll have the ill sounds pumpin in your range | |
| Or your walkman, head bouncin type strange | |
| That' s when you start to realize that your life is rearranged | |
| Don' t go to work no more cause all you want is the pure | |
| Hip hop from the MC connoisseur | |
| So now you on missions headed to the record store | |
| Cop the product and beam up like never before | |
| Now you' re hooked for life and there' s no escapin us | |
| Cause one hit was too many, a million not enough | |
| CHORUS x2 |
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