Blame It on the Hip Hop (feat. Jered Sanders)

Came in the 80s but born in the 70's Raised on radio rakim and eric B Chuck d and BDP that was my therapy Blasting in my headphones to hear what they telling me But apparently currently all i'll ever see Is running from these bullies in the hood trying to get at me Late nights scaring me gun shots a melody Came up dead last kind of like the letter z And all my neighbors got a felony And all my teachers do is yell at me But I don't know where in hell i'd be If Jesus didn't step in and kick the sin out of me I found a recipe and remedy So rest in peace to every little piece of the older me So when it's over and ya bury me Leave the mic in my hand so i died as an emcee If my hat's to the left you can blame it on the hip hop If I got a way that I step you can blame it on the hip hop And if I keep my kicks fresh you can blame it on the hip hop If my life is so blessed you can blame it on the hip hop If its still about lyrics blame it on the hip hop If your raps I don't feel it blame it on the hip hop And if i still wanna kill it blame it on the hip hop Father Son and the Spirit they be reigning in my hip hop Born in the 80s raised in the 90s Grew up on that Wu-tang slang and straight grimy Find me in the cipher spitting freestyles Emcees all around like a swarm of killer bees Protect your neck bars are sharp like killer teeth Claim you got game son I got skill Sure you pop steel when you cop that deal Uou is not real and my crew does not feel These studio thugs cause the block is too real The truth was revealed when the blood got spilled Aggression pressing wrong buttons stop fronting Top and cutting to the bone home sharpen rhymes Microphone firearms stay out of harms way Lyrical bullets watch what God say when I pull it No ducking just busting goldin tongue flow smooth on percussion Rip through your tissue hit you direct in your heart muscle In the midst of the struggle you say uncle You've overpowered by a circumstance We advance forward never quit be here to the end of it Remember this Ak when I spit like this you can blame it on the hip hop I been around it bro Way before the lobes knew of the rocks or Rolls Betty Crocker though, use it for pasta bowls The pros spewing to lock and load Cock the four, flu game, get a shot for those Just another slight, cocky male Rocking over beat box battles and cafeteria acapelles You could prolly tell back when I was prolly 12 I was a number one chief rocka, popping my lapel Head knocking over Rock The Bells Switching accents, to track suits, Applejack and a blocky cell Scarface, Hugh Heffy with a few models Some Esco, Big Poppa, and a lotta L Only Mac I knew, coming wit gun powder And spitting a lot of babble outta one tower But I ain't worried about a God MC Cause the God, JC got the globe and He runs ours