Showing posts with label hiphop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hiphop. Show all posts

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Cassidy - R.A.I.D (Meek Mill diss)


R.A.I.D. (Meek Mill Diss)


Download: 

Cassidy fires back at Meek Mill with this 10-minute tear over various beats. "R.A.I.D." stands for "Robert Ass Is Dead." Could this unforgiving track be the end of the beef?


[Intro]
Yeah…
You been on my dick
You should’ve took your own fucking advice
You know you not fucking with me
I used to help you write your raps
Give you tips on how to get better
I use to tutor you - now you wanna disrespect your teacher?
Well you got a problem on your hands that you can’t deal with
Bitch

[Verse]
Ayo, you ain't got nothin’ on me
They couldn't wait for me to diss you in a song
‘Cause you was fucking corny
‘Member when you use to run up on me like
“Cass, please listen to my song?”
You used to play the shit like “this a hit, Cass”
I was thinkin’ “man, that shit trash, why you lay this shit?”
You said Cosmic Kev gave you shit
‘Cause he ain’t never play your shit
If you ain't mean it, why you say this shit?
Now your song gettin’ played every day and shit
So you gassed up, but I’ll still eat your ass up
You turned into a fag to get your cash up
But, I’d rather be broke than get my ass fucked
I started off with 50 cent, I ain't lying
But I’mma get rich or die tryin’ like a half buck
Yo, my bars so raw it could get bagged up
But yours got mad cut and not the type that scab up
Yup, this what I’mma do to you
Kill you in a battle, then Wale can say a poem at your funeral (damn)
‘Cause you wasn't getting bread then
Now you tryin’ to ride out but you comin’ down a dead end
You was a fucking bum -
you couldn't even get your braids fuckin’ done
It looked like you was growin’ dreads in
And we know, I turned to Christ like Tebow
But in jail was the only time I hung around a CO
I'm the illest emcee, yo
Why you wanna try me? Man, I'm the S.H.I.T.
You niggas shook up like Ali
I spit cook up - you don't wanna be hooked up to a IV
You a rabbit, eat a whole bowl full of dog shit
Then drink a cup full of hog spit before you try me
R.I.P. see the mortician, boy
I ain’t doin’ no more tweeting, get your door kicked in
Come on, you be drawn, nigga I ain’t bullshittin’
How you go on Twitter tweeting that the boy snitchin’?
Listen, you better off tryin’ to make a verse
‘Cause the shit that you tweet just only gon' make it worse
You a dry snitch tryin’ to say that I snitched
Bitch, I never opened my lips, where the paper work?
You was in Pit goin’ to court with a PD
No commissary, couldn't even make a Chi-Chi
When I was locked up, I was on TV
Soon as dudes turned on the news they would see me
So yeah they put me on PC, I’m not debatin’
For the first month did the final seven on population
I hate talkin’ bout the past
But wild shit be comin’ out your mouth
‘Cause you talkin’ out your ass
But watch how you talk when you talkin’ bout Cass
‘Cause I'm seriously offended, don't get your career ended
You finished - your whole carrier is a gimmick
You must have lost your damn mind screamin’ all the damn time
You can't rhyme and if it wasn't for Charlie Mack
You wouldn't even have a house to have a house party at
You could hardly rap, all you do is make party tracks
Niggas know Meek sound so weak on a slow beat
You blew up fast but now you got a slow leak
All you gon' hear about is how Cass aired you out
Who cares about how you supposed to be rich?
Or how you “ridin’ in your Ghost, Rollie on your wrist”
Bitch - you really hype but you ain't even reppin’ Philly right
You not a Big Willie just ‘cause you know how to wheelie bikes
Right - it's like I was sixteen’d on it
You cockroach, I'm the dopest nigga you seen on it
Don't make me put you on the Summer Jam screen
In them dirty ass jeans and the sneakers with the wings on it
Your first album and that compilation flopped
‘Cause you tell a lot of lies and you exaggerate a lot
Stop saying you was making guap hustlin’ ‘cause you wasn't
You never had keys like a combination lock
That ice moist tonight in that imitation watch
So why you always rappin’ about how much cake you got?
You a son of bitch, try and imitate your Pop
And you never was a thug, why you imitatin’ Pac?
You was wrong for doin’ that song ‘Tupac Back’
I seen the video like “where the fuck is Tupac at?”
Then saw your boss, like “nah, Tupac not fat”
I had Philly on lock before Tupac got clapped
You know me, a OG in the game
On point like Derrick Rose before he hurt his knee in the game
For ten years I've been the dopest emcee in the game
How you expect to keep respect long as me in the game?
See your name was Meek Millz, and now it’s Meek Mill
You couldn't even keep the fuckin’ Z in your name
You the biggest pussy in the game, I got you cats shook
“Cassidy losing to Meek?” Now how does that look?
Why you drop that song Repo? That was a wack look
The streets know them people need to repo your rap book
I'm back, look, this what I prayed for
You dug your own grave, boy, that's what I made this song ‘Raid’ for
And Meek, how you gon' wage war
when the GDs made MMG shut down they paid tour?
You getting’ paid, I got paid more, way more
I just get it and spend it, I should’ve saved more
I singed deal when you was in the sixth grade, boy
You got some nice whips but none of them shits is paid for
Man, you leased it, don't keep it a damn secret
You could front for a couple of months but you can't keep it
And everybody notice you niggas is fuckin’ bogus
You might as well preorder your Rest In Peace posters
You niggas ‘bout to go night-night - buenos noches
Fuck 'em all (I bury those cockroaches!)
This ain't about who the richest and who the brokest
This is about who the dopest, and nigga, focus
You moved from Philly -
You only in the city ‘cause in LA Big U signed your eviction notice
You jokers better keep your mouths closed
I was a household name before you was comin’ out your household
I roll with a bunch of goons so I'm extra safe
But I still gotta keep the weapon on me just in case
No, I don't wanna catch a case,
but I never keep the safety on my weapon
I ain't tryin’ to keep my weapon safe
You extra fake show some respect
‘Cause I was there when all you used to wear was dirty-ass V-necks
You spit a bunch of BS, you don't want it with me
I get fuckin’ busy, ain’t nobody fuckin’ with me
Under-dig-me? I've been gritty all my damn life
Damn right, you might could flow but you can't write
You not tryin’ to go to jail or lose your damn life
If we start beefin’, so let’s keep it on the damn mic
Fuck all the damn hype, this about bars
It's not about Rollies, it's not about cars
It's not about YSL or Audemars
You jumped off my dick to dick-ride Ross (pause)
Keep your eyes on the sparrow, Meek
‘Cause ridin’ other niggas dicks is not a good way to travel, Meek
So get off, yeah, you tried to get your shit off
But your shit soft, you gon' get your head ripped off
And all the frontin’ that you doin’ got me pissed off
Nothin’ that you write true, that's why I don't like you
I don't know who hyped, all your bars recycled
Fuck who got opinions, you know you not winnin’
I've been hot from the beginning
Son you got problems when they tired of your style after one album
I'm not finished, you the dude I’mma chew up
You my son, one of my sperm cells that grew up
Yup, I brought you in this world and I could take you out
Then let your btich and my dick start makin’ out
You already know every radio station
‘Bout to have this shit bumpin’ like a nigga that’s breakin’ out
Look, you could put my raps in a crack vial
That style you got not yours, that's Peedi Crakk’s style
And that’s foul, I told you to switch you rap style
A while back, let him get his style back
You not a loud pack, you a black mile, you just rap loud
And you all wack ‘cause you rap with another cat’s style
I ain’t feelin’ Robert or Meek Williams
I’mma kill him, and I could care less if he catch feelings
The meek shall inherit the Earth
Well that's exactly what Meek gon' inherit when he buried in dirt
Meek, you never should of spit that verse
I ain't Loaded Lux, but you know what’s up
‘Bout to get that work, yeah
Get that doctor, get that nurse
In a hospital bed you gon' get that first
Yeah, get that casket, get that hearse
Get that pastor, get that church
Your carrier dead - yeah
And you can keep sleepin’ on me
but I'm ‘bout to blow up like an air bed
You air head - I keep it gutter, nigga - word to mother, nigga
You signed to a nigga that’s signed to another nigga
With a 360 deal so that mean anytime you get money
you split money with other niggas
You break bread, your homies’ll say “I love you, nigga”
But they not supporting you, they extorting you
When you was broke all them niggas was not around
But now look at all the niggas you got around
Yeah, you poppin’ now, but if you stop gettin’ chiseled
All them niggas with you gon' start to get forgetful
I've been through it before, I'm not gon' bullshit you
It's official, same shit different toilet tissue
It’s like they might shoot they pistol
But if somebody get shot then the cops gon’ come and get you
That's your case, they only know your face
And you cant afford it, nigga, even if your dough straight
It's a slow wait, plus you on probabtion
And being caged in is a fucked up situation
I’m tryin’ to school you ‘cause you my kid
And I'm concerned,
you gotta learn from the dumb shit that you done did
But you always been a stupid kid
You got a little brain even though your head stupid big
And you might be gettin’ up in some puss
“But what, you think you getting’ girls now ‘cause of your looks?”
What? You look like an animal in the face
You remind me of that monkey on Planet of the Apes
Wait - I see panic in your face
I know I'm scarin’ you - this the cockroach burial
I’m too hot and got too much material
But you annoyin’, I'm getting’ tired of hearin’ you
You so pussy you’ll probably get a venereal disease
Meek I’m your father, out of your league
You know your whole team weak
And you was mad Kendrick Lamar sold more than your ass
Nigga, I seen the tweet
My nigga Jag made you have your worst nightmare
Larsiny fam’ right here and we don't fight fair
And we ain’t like y’all squad ‘cause we all ride
Meek, you be lookin’ all nervous with the frog eyes
And Ruff Ryders gon' ride with me too
So Robert’s ass is dead and ain’t shit you could do (nothin’)
Plus the rest of your niggas could get it too
I get at them right after I get at you (yeah, I said it)
The rest of your niggas could get it too
I get at them right after I get at you
Faggot…


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Meek Mill - Repo (Cassidy diss)


 
 
00:00
 
00:00
 
 
 
 
 
Listen and download...

Intro:

We gon' knock this right out
We gon' skate to one song…
And one song only, nigga
Yeah!
Really?

[Verse]
Fuckin' ‘Condom Style’? Get your jig on?
You a clown-ass nigga, put a wig on
Nigga I be goin’ HAM ‘til the pig gone
All this ice around my neck, I got a fridge on
Body Cass, put him in a body bag
Broke nigga, we should put you in a body cast
Real nigga, all I know is get a lot of cash
I took you hatin’ niggas’ spots, that’s why you probably mad
My story - all guts, glory
Posted on the corner, Glock 40 tucked on me
20 years on me, me and my army
Feelin' like none of y'all niggas can harm me
I came from the bottom, where they never make it at
With all my jewels on, they ain't never takin' that
It’s rules to the game I ain't never breakin' that
And once you give a statement, nigga, you can never take it back
You lame part of the game, nigga pardon the fame
I got 30 in my clip I can park in your frame
Plus this Rollie on my wrist cost some cars and change
We talkin' bike life, 'bout to put a park in my name
Just to ride on you niggas or slide on you niggas
G550 when we glide on you niggas, like
Collide on you niggas, homicide on you nigga
I never had no rap, had no ties to you niggas, so
Why you suckas hatin' and talkin' 'bout what I'm makin'?
When I be out in Jamaica and ballin' like I'm like a Laker?
There’s givers and there’s takers, these niggas is getting’ faker
And I’m just getting’ richer, I wake up and get my cake up
Black Maserati, chinchillas for profit
Ten killers beside me, all lookin' like ahkis
I remember nights on corners with beef and broccoli
Rice and gravy, now it’s crazy, Phillipe's got me
All gold AP, same watch as Jay-Z
Ballin' like I'm KD
How can niggas play me?
If you ain’t talkin’ money, nigga, fuck you, pay me
Drophead with the top down and the A.C.
On, drawn, fuck is y'all doin'?
I’m a king, you a pawn, lil’ nigga I’m a don
The coke price high, it cost 40 for a jawn
And like 20 for a half, lil’ nigga do the math
And you talkin' 'bout a battle rap
How you gon' handle that?
Hundred grand, pussy nigga?
You ain't got the tab for that
You ain’t got the stash for that
You the one we laughin’ at
‘Cause you ain’t got half of that, they pump you up, asthma attack
Bye clown, calm down, 'fore you make me bomb now
Fuckin’ all these superstars like “who Meek Milly bomb now?”
Went from drivin' Bentleys, to goin’ half on pie pounds
You niggas need to die now
Philly nigga, my town
I heard your car got repo’d
But this is bike life, boy, you just got Deebo'd
Them Twitter niggas fuckin’ with your ego
You in the field, try and to turn to God like Tebow
Naw, that won't work, nigga
That’ll get you merked, nigga
All black Ghost, nigga
Lookin’ like a hearse, nigga
Been a dead man, so I’mma dig you out the earth, nigga
Just to stuff your skeleton right back in the dirt, nigga
What you made this year?
What you worth, nigga?
I dropped Dreams and Nightmares, I made ‘Church’, nigga
I did 'I’mma boss,' youngin’ set the summer off
Now these old niggas mad at me ‘cause they fallin' off
Get your hate on, Cass
And we ain’t talkin’ Larsiny ‘cause they all trash
And your goons ain’t ridin’ with you, they all mad
‘Cause you ain’t never put no food up in Ar-Abs
My dog caught a body for you
Damn, he ain’t eat from it
Now you mad at Swizz cause you can't get a beat from him
Plus my niggas comin’ at you, dog, we gon’ keep comin’
Weirdo Forest Gump nigga, better keep runnin’
DC, nigga - you PC nigga
While you was scared, I was eatin' Chi-Chi’s, nigga
Talkin’ to Tip ‘bout how we gon’ beast these niggas
All I know is “bang bang” like that Chief Keef nigga
Got a matte black Aston, gold rims on it
Bitch lookin’ like it got a pair of Timbs on it
Cashmere sweater, bunch of gems on it
All my guns come with extends on it
Duck or get hit up
Tuck, nigga, you lit up
‘Cause you lookin’ like food, my youngins ready to get up
Call you for a verse and tell you to write some shit up
Boom! High stick up!
Jumpin' all out the pick up
Whoa!

[Outro]
You know you fucked up right?
Aye, aye
The Hustla
You know you fucked up, right?
Man I ain’t doin’ this shit no more with you nutty-ass niggas
I came in the game, I ain't even signed a year, nigga
I got more money than all you hatin’-ass old niggas put together
Y'all niggas ain't do shit
Talkin’ all this Philly shit
Y’all niggas ain’t put no bars in the hood out here, nigga
All my niggas drive foreigns
My niggas, my niggas don’t even rap got better cars than you niggas
Coon copped that 'Rari, you don’t feel sorry for these bitch-ass rappers
You can't come to Philly no more
And not even because of this, you was never comin’ to Philly
You ain’t been here in eight years, you pussy-ass nigga

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Video: Young Buck Explains Getting His Chain Back From IRS Auction


Currently on house arrest, Young Buck explains why he decided to buy back his “615″ chain from the IRS auction earlier this week.
Aside from his troubles with the IRS, Buck is currently awaiting his 3 year prison sentence in which he will only end up serving 18 months.

Video: Rick Ross – Hold Me Back


After a fair amount of controversy, we finally get to see what all the fuss is about. Besides the nudity, there’s not a lot to censor here. I’m guessing that BET was more concerned about the language than the video. Whatever the case is, God Forgives, I Don’t hits store shelves on July 31st.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Video: Ludacris – Jingalina


Ludacris throws the party of the year all in support of his “Jingalin” music video. Aristotle directed the Project X inspired video, and Da Internz produced the track. Ludaversal coming soon.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Mixtape: Lloyd Banks – V.6 (The Gift)



Let’s see if the music matches the dope cover. Bank’s V.6 (The Gift) features Fabolous, Vado, Jadakiss, and ScHoolboy Q with production from Doe Pesci, The Jerm, and Cardiak.

Stream and download Lloyd Banks’ V.6 (The Gift) mixtape >>>

Monday, July 23, 2012

2 Chainz ft Kanye West – Birthday Song Lyrics Included

2-chainz-based-on-a-tru-story

2 Chainz ft Kanye West – Birthday Song. Lyrics included below.
Last birthday, she got you a new sweater, Put it on, give her a kiss, and tell her, “Do better”
Off 2 Chainz debut album Based On A T.R.U. Story. Produced by Sonny Digital and Kanye.

2 Chainz – Birthday Song mp3 and Lyrics


[Intro: 2 Chainz]
Yeah
Birthday, it’s your birthday
If I die bury me inside that Louie store

 [Hook: 2 Chainz]
They ask me what I do and who I do it for
And how I come up with this shit up in the studio
All I want for my birthday is a big booty girl
All I want for my birthday is a big booty girl
When I die, bury me inside the Gucci store
When I die, bury me inside the Louie store
All I want for my birthday is a big booty girl
All I want for my birthday is a big booty girl

[Verse 1: 2 Chainz]
She got a big booty so I call her Big Booty
Scrr Scrr, Wrists moving, cookin’ to it
I’m in the kitchen, yams everywhere
Just made a ? I got bands everywhere
You the realest nigga breathin’ if I hold my breath
Referee, with the whistle, hold his tech
Extendo, extendo roll
When your girl leave me she need a hair salon
Hair weave killer, goin’ on a trapathon
See I done have more bars than Pakistan
bomb, bomb, and a bomb
She ?, I’m borin’ you in will call
When I die, bury me inside the jewelry store
When I die, bury me inside the Truey store
True to my religion, true everything I’m too different
So when I die, bury me next to 2 bitches

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Kanye West]
Ah, Yeezy Yeezy how you doing huh?
It’s my birthday, I deserve to be greedy huh?
She holding out, she ain’t givin’ to the needy huh?
You go downstairs and fall asleep with the T.V on
Ya’ll been together ten years, you deserve a menaj
‘Specially if you put that BMW in the garage
‘Specially if you paid a couple payments on her mamma crib
Weren’t you at niece’s graduation? Man, I hate those kids
Last birthday, she got you a new sweater
Put it on, give her a kiss, and tell her, “Do better”
She said, “How ’bout I get you jewelry from the Weston?”
How ’bout she hit the West End and get her best friend?
I’m jokin’, I’m just serious, I asked her
Don’t be actin’ like no actress, if we preachin’ then we practice
Don’t be reachin’, don’t be touchin’ shit
We in Kanye West’s benz, cause I will turn you back to a pedestrian

[Hook]

[Verse 3: 2 Chainz (Kanye West)]
It’s your birthday, it’s your birthday
Bad bitches contest, you in first place
You in first place, you in first place
Bad bitches contest, you in first place
I show up with a check to your work place
(Then hand the valet the keys to the Mercy)
Tell the DJ play your song, this shit come on
(What I’m seein’ from the back I can’t front on)
They ask me what I do and who I do it for
When I die, bury me inside the booty club
Get it good, get it good, get it get it good
I might switch it up and get you good

[Hook]

[Outro: 2 Chainz (Kanye West)]
Deuce and Ye
We like Snoop and Dre
And this your birthday, baby?
You deserve a coupe today
(You in first place, you in first place)
(Bad bitches contest you in first place!)


BET Bans Rick Ross’ “Hold Me Back” Music Video

rick-ross-hold-me-back

BET is holding back Rick Ross’ “Hold Me Back” music video. Director Taj tweeted about the ban late last night.

“So BET rejected Ross’ “Hold Me Back” video. It’s incredibly sad, because the video is incredibly special & real. You’re killing US BET. Smh,” he tweeted. “Everybody ask BET why it’s ok for them to play “Boyz N the Hood”, “Menace to Society”, and “South Central”, but not Ross’ video. RT RT RT What does BET stand for? You should have two answers for that question,” he continued.

The “Hold Me Back” music video was shot in New Orleans’ Calio Projects. BET was supposed to debut the video a few days ago. Reasons for their rejection are unknown. 

Watch behind the scenes footage of the “Hold Me Back” video shoot >>>




BET isn’t scared to pull the plug on music videos. If you remember, they also refused to play Nicki Minaj’s “Stupid Hoe” music video.



Rick Ross – Hold Me Back. Lyrics included below.
“Momma workin’ three jobs ’til I told her to quit, How we rose from the sewer, funny now I’m the shit”


[Intro]
I see how these niggas playin’
But I could adapt
These niggas won’t hold me back (x8)
These hoes won’t hold me back
These hoes won’t hold me back
These niggas won’t hold me back
These niggas won’t hold me back



[Verse 1]
I look in my fridge, my shit lookin’ scarce
I got a few kids, we need some shit on the shelf
I get a knock at the door, they say my rent overdue
And while my niggas sell dope and don’t know what else to do
The only thing on my mind, I’m tryin’ to keep on the lights
I call up my slime, I need a kilo tonight
Everything whipped well, I’m eatin’ steak, no more soup
Then I parked the Capri, I went and bought me a Coupe
Everything takes time, but this shit came fast
Niggas standin’ in line, they wanna hold me back
I multiplied my hustle, stimulated my mind
Motivated my niggas and we’ll never divide, no



[Hook]
These niggas won’t hold me back (x4)
These hoes won’t hold me back
These hoes wanna hold me back (x3)
Noooo



[Verse 2]
First I got me a Taurus, then I copped me a Lexus
I took over Florida, my connect out of Texas
Then I start sippin’ purple, got my shit screwed
When you feedin’ your circle, watch your shipments improve
Fabricate ’bout your fortune, all my fabric’s imported
Fornicate in my fortress, 40k still my mortgage
24k my toilet, all my taxes reported
All my exes deported, shout-out Texas, New Orleans
All these niggas influenced by a hustler’s endurance
I just me the purest, but I need some insurance
Niggas watch who you fuckin’ just to hate on your bitches
Niggas breakin’ the rules, niggas facin’ suspicion



[Hook]


[Verse 3]
Momma workin’ three jobs ’til I told her to quit
How we rose from the sewer, funny now I’m the shit
Niggas ain’t gettin’ money, but they got an opinion
Had this tech makin’ racket, serve you like you were tennis
Killers ride for that paycheck, AK okay, check
Bitch nigga let’s play chess, yo bitch next, no latex
These niggas won’t hold me back, told the feds they sold me set
Whip ‘em right and then come right back
Whip-whip-whip ‘em right and then come right back



[Hook] x2


[Verse 4]
Pussy ass niggas, pussy ass niggas
They all pussy ass niggas, pussy ass niggas
Lookin’ down on these niggas, pussy ass niggas
Pushin’ my new Ferrari on these pussy ass niggas
Pussy hoe, pussy hoe
She a pussy hoe until she give me pussy hoe
Pussy hoe, pussy hoe
Pussy hoe, she a pussy hoe

[Hook] x2

DMX Pops A Wheelie Only Days After ATV Accident








X you crazy. Only 4 days after being released from the hospital following an ATV accident, X jumped back on his 4-wheeler and popped a wheelie, on the street, with no helmet, with stitches still in his head!


DMX’s ATV landed him in the hospital last week. He suffered a severe concussion and required several stitches.


He told TMZ that, “Shit happens, you know what I mean. Hopefully it don’t happen again … but I am a Ruff Ryder.”

Sunday, July 22, 2012

50 Cent Enters The Boxing Business


50 Cent has added “boxing promoter” to his extensive resume as he has officially entered the boxing promotion business. SI reports that 50 Cent’s TMT (The Money Team) Promotions has been licensed as a promotion company in New York. According to the Nevada Athletic commission, TMT is in the process of applying for a license in Nevada.
TMT Promotions is expected to sign former featherweight title holder Yuri Gamboa, and Andre Dirrell.
During a conference call for the Cotto fight, Floyd Mayweather spoke about 50′s involvement in the boxing business. “I think he’s going to be involved on the promotion side,” he said. “We may even put him out there, let him fight on pay-per-view one time. So we don’t really know what the future holds, but he is getting involved with boxing.”

Saturday, July 21, 2012

R.I.P HIP HOP Diva, Ms.Melodie




 Ms Melodie, real name Ramona Parker, died in her sleep. She was best known as the FIRST LADY of Boogie Down Productions, and KRS One's ex-wife. This is deeper than bongo hiphop, unless if you were a good fan of BDP, KRS, NaughtyByNature, PublicEnemy and other longtymerz u will know who this lady was in the Game back in the dayz.
But she could SPIT... get to know her>>> Listen to her verse in the 1980s classic SELF DESTRUCTION!!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

NAS DID IT AGAIN, "BYE BABY" [NEW SONG]...listen it here lyrics included!


Nas – Bye Baby. Lyrics included below.

nas-life-is-good
“I guess you knew we blew a good thing”
New track off Nas’ Life Is Good album. Out July 17th. Produced by Salaam Remi & 40. Premiered by Pitchfork. Nas speaks on his relationship with Kelis.
Read the full Nas “Bye Baby” Lyrics after the jump.

Nas – Bye Baby Lyrics

I guess you knew and blew a good thing, baby
[Verse 1]
Bye baby, I guess you know why I walked away
When we walked to the altar that was an awesome day
Did counselling, couldn’t force me to stay
Something happens when you say I do, we go astray
Why do we mess it up, we was friends we had it all
Reason you don’t trust men, that was your daddy fault
He in the grave, let it go, he no longer living
Said you caught him cheating with mom and other women
Fuck that gotta do with us
Here’s the keys to the newest truck
Birkin bags, we burnin’ cash, now baby do it up
No matter who you fuck, that was before me
Wanted you as my shawty since I saw you screamin’
“Hate you so much right now”
Should’ve saw the man in angry black women
Ashes of a demon, I’m leaving

[Hook]
I guess you knew and blew a good thing, baby (Bye baby)
You know I’m saying bye-bye (Bye-bye baby)
Cause I’m sayin’ bye-bye (Bye baby)
Cause I’m sayin’ bye-bye
I guess you knew and blew a good thing, baby

[Verse 2]
Bye baby, I guess you know why I had to leave
Seven months in your pregnancy, ’bout to have my seed
Let’s take it back some years, rewind it to the happy years
You and your Star Trak fam, I’m thinking you cats are weird
Same time, different year, I was diggin’ ya flow
Then I tatted you on my arm so niggas would know
I thought no one could stop us, matching gold watches
I was your Johnny Depp, you was my Janis Joplin
Yet, the cuter version, yet I knew you personally
Better than you knew yourself and I knew this for certain
Crib in the Dominican you got away from everybody
You screaming at the racist cops in Miami was probably
The highlight of my life, like “Hi yo look at my wife”
Gangsta, me and twenty cops ’bout to fight, crazy night
Bailed you out, next morning we got clean
Like it never happened and later we at that Heat game
Just another day in the life of two people in love
But it wasn’t enough, so baby guess what

[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Listen, could you imagine writing your deposition?
Divorce Lawyer telling you how this thing gonna be ending?
With you paying out the ass, and I’m talking half
Not some but half. No serious, half
Half of your soul, half of your heart you leaving behind
It’s either that or die, I wanted peace of mind
And all I seen was selfish cowards, under they breath
Saying “why did Nas trust her?”, but look at yourself, speak louder bruh
You live with your babymoms and scared to make an honest woman out of her
And make her your bride, fake bitch you ain’t even alive
At least I can say I tried plus enjoyed the ride
Plus we got our little boy, my little joy and pride
He got my nose, my grill, your colour, your eyes
Next go round I hope I pick the truest type and watch me do it all again
It’s a beautiful life, aight
Goodbye


Friday, July 6, 2012

Relationship Status: It’s Complicated



I’m in love with these two [three] chicks; I don’t know which one to pick; My feelings for them both are getting thick; Now am I wrong cause I don’t want to lose none of them?” — Mr Cheeks
Miss Tanzania and I, our tongues are native, our chemistry is so narrative; our love engraved with hieroglyphs, still an archeological mystery, with Geneticists trying deciphering. We dated when dating was still Western, so we just sat down and ate dates, with Arusha Declaringour love, as we naively composed Ujamaa poems, that our love will never be poisoned. But taste change with time, as she privatized her body, just for Mkapa to pimp her “mali asili”, natural resources, for a dime.
Her face “dhahabu inaita”; a jewel I dug it like a miner, and yes we were both minors, but love had already sprung and ripe, like Adam and Eve we tasted the forbidden fruit of love. She’s a pearl that came from the dust, a “tanzanite”, she couldn’t have possibly come from my rib, coz she’s the one who has molded me. Now how does Miss America decides what beauty is, when the first Being came from Miss Tanzania’s rich soil, Olduvai Gorge, the navel of mankind.
Like Hip Hop, she was “regular” before “hajawa ruksa”, we lost her to nymphoniac. They were both “secular”, Ms. Tanzania was spiritual, constitutional fearful, while Ms. Hip Hop observed the five pillars like Islam.
Miss Tanzania became a girl of many men, already-made men, like “Richmond” and “Dowans akavimsha pete”. But the marriage was diagnosed with controversies, coz the love in her, had already faded, just emptiness and darkness in her heart like Tanesco’s umeme,“share yetu si’ (sisi) giza”. It was cool when it was genuine, I reminisce when we were in love and meant it, but our love became complicated, it grew without photosynthesis thanks to power rationing, but just like with Hip Hop we weren’t meant to make it, even though at times we were like cellmates, but deep down we were soulmates, the world just made us feel like Romeo and Juliet.
Miss Tanzania then graduated from a kanga girl, honest and modest, to the runaway wearing CL, now she got a type, “juzi juzi kaopolewa na handsome boy”, she no longer “swing it with the inner-city circle”. Similarly to Hip Hop who started to “only f*cks with the funk”, Miss Tanzania “anaendekeza bata”, just to catch a cold, and every breath hurts, she even struggled to exhale I love you, I had to catch it before her coughs ranted.
Mbagala walimbaka”, Ms. Tanzania, a rape crime scene, “mpaka akamwaga damu”Like how “a few New York niggaz, did Hip Hop in the park”, I had to catch my rage, before it torn someone’s page, just to leave their life story incoherent.
Like an omen, soon as she broke to Capitalism, misfortunes and miscarriages, but I didn’t want to “stand in her way”, as she was about “expandin’” far from Ujamaa, that “was going out of style”, the same way Hip Hop felt about “pro-black”, so she left for the West Coast, claiming “Afrocentricity, was of the past”.
“She didn’t have a body but she started getting thick quick”, unlike Ms. Tanzania who had a curvy figure eight even before puberty, a Bantu queen, booty pure African “mzigo Kilimanjaro”, status, Africa’s highest peak.
I can’t pen how exactly Hip Hop and I met, but love at first sight as she expressed her thoughts in her rhymes, her rhythm had my feelings speeding for her kick and drum, she didn’t invent my style, but she reinvented it to swag, not just “physically, but mentally too”. REWIND. She was young, so we easily connected, her style of rapping words, added a unique flow to her stride that attracted stares from the old lads, a rebel at heart, like Ms. Tanzania who stood defiant against “baba yake mkoloni”.
Her soul is words in motion, a Griot with modern stories, inspiring mine that stutters. Her thoughts are contagiously potent, with them she paints pictures like Soyinka, abstract with clarity, clarifying our depressed realities. Before her, I was like an empty paper searching for a purpose, and she was a pen that gave it words that lit up my conscious, filled with knowledge, wrapped in wordplay that I fathom. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, I say her thoughts embedded in poetry always leaves me to ponder.
Hip Hop, she reminds me of how Miss Tanzania used to also be, “fresh”, when she was “underground”, “geti kali”, not the one to be seen, “pure, untampered and down sister”, before she chased orgasm like she chased breathe, that left her breathless after hitting the climax note. And down again she was, thirsty for climbing more, her adrenaline for progress, made her fearless even “kulikuwa mtungo”, she gave “kavu kavu bila kinga”, condomless. Like with Hip Hop “niggaz slammin her, and takin her to the sewer”, she looked strange like she fed on manure, and “how her titties hung” was clear their Secret with Victoria was officially unsecured.
Later I met Miss America, “political nympho”, she f*cked my brains “literal”, wet American in my Dream, a sex symbol, not really conservative like my Miss Tanzania, but both are “chotara”, light skin complexion, reflecting Miss America’s complexities of her ethnicity; a pot that melted my heart, that had “so much soul” like my lady Hip Hop, different from her, Miss America, “Queen of Capitalism”, the same beauty pageant that Miss Tanzania fought herself in, even though her “maandalizi longolongo”, just for economic disparity to soar.
Commercials packaged Miss America’s beauty well, and it aired universal, and then a “fake lips and tits” era swept the world. I justified her look as abstract art, like my Miss Tanzania’s lightness “kumbe ni mkorogo”, looking like a clown, while Miss America resembled a mannequin. Thought their light skins were authentic, Miss Tanzania bleached hers to fit in with “gangsta bitches”, forgetting her essence like Hip Hop who “altered the native”. Both their complexions were “synthetic”, hiding under their layers of cosmetics, Miss America’s beauty was breath-taking, but it was “in debt with bad credit”, as I was locked into her eyes, her pupils were “dollar signs”, our relationship at first was definitely of greener pastures, as if my past relationships starved from deforestation.
With Miss America, I was “caught up in her lies”, that were like a spider web, didn’t realize, because when we kissed, her tongue only told me what I wanted to hear, sweet, like nothing I have ever tasted, but it was all “deceptive”. She pretended to be in love with my accent, when she reciprocated, to show how deep she was infatuated, “word nigger still rolls off her tongue so well”. I thought she “dug my rap” like Hip Hop did, but she was all about “self-centeredness”, putting “her needs first”. Unlike Hip Hop with her political consciousness, about “stopping the violence”, Miss America’s ethics are squinted, she once told me, “there’s no just war there’s JUST war”, it brought terror into my heart, and it read error her being in my life.
“Now periodically I would see, ol girl at the clubs, and at the house parties”, like Hip Hop, “wasted openly tea bagging”. F*cking “the world”, but she “keeps her legs closed for those south of the border”, her unfaithfulness turned our relationship “toxic”.  She was “mama huruma” like Miss Tanzania, who allowed “all these groupies do her”, “anamegwa na mafisadi”, which eventually it also depreciated Miss Hip Hop’s creativeness, which was the core of her heart and soul. Hip Hop is DEAD Nas once wrote, and my cardiac nearly ended up being arrested, 911 call saved it.
Miss America was a “nympho”, “not the wife type” as I expected, biracial babies to confess our affection, but the hope ended. Even though she bragged “she’s the only one under God”, by closing her “mali asili”, “for those south of the border” like Miss Tanzania who did the same to her own common people, but opened her legs to “mafisadi” and the West, “mapenzi kafanya biashara”. Miss America was far from being holy, with all her “gonorrhea, syphilis, herpes, chlamydia”, but she still f*cked more, spreading her democracy, switching her label “whore” to an activist with a goal, her mission started from “built banks with Nazis” to selling “coke with contras” and “Afghan poppy”, now she’ll feel deserving of Che’s award.
Damn, I should have never subscribed to their love. Now I am attached, thought with Miss America it was strictly lust, but when it lasts, I guess it is called being in love. Their unique individual personalities sabotaged what was written, Adam and Eve, they turned me to Adam and Threes. Miss Tanzania cried when she caught Hip Hop whispering into my ears through the headphones. She taught me poetry that I secretly wrote to Miss Tanzania who loved the distinctive flow, I dropped her few lines that to her were like UFO, until I fled to the U.S. yo, cheated on her while in overseas, thought her eyes wouldn’t see, once again her heart was broken, but she also broke mine, with those who deceived her, “EPA, akaunti hewa”, they hit it raw. “But I’ma take her back” like Hip Hop, “hopin that the shit stop”.I followed this bee, Miss Tanzania, since infancy, coz I am patriotic to her sweetness, harnessed her honey, so if life becomes bitter I know where to turn. But who said life was gon’ be easy, love sometimes stings, and I got scars from her infidelities, with all her “mafisadi” that she let hit it. So I let Hip Hop serenade me where it hurts the most, my heart hosts her poetry, like a herb it heals me slowly, we connect on a deeper level, we converse in tongues with our metaphors, we’re always amazed how much we’re similes. Miss America thanks for the opportunity, you just made me love Miss Tanzania even more, coz your love one minute it draws me in, second minute it’s a drone. I should have never messed with a broken-hearted; we hooked up after a “bad break with her ex, Osama Bin Laden”. So I’m taking a U-turn back to black commonsense, back to a Beautiful African consciousness.

By Bahati from  tzhiphop.com

Thursday, June 7, 2012

DJ Fetty kuwakilisha maDJ wa E.Africa ndani ya BBA Stargame



Dj wa kwanza wa kike nchini Tanzania Fatma Hassan aka Dj Fetty wa Clouds Fm amepewa heshima ya kuwa Dj wa kwanza wa kike kutoka Afrika Mashariki kutumbuiza kwenye mashindano ya Big Brother Africa.
Kupitia ukurasa wake wa Facebook Fetty amesema, “Juma mosi hii na jumapili nitakua nikispin ndani ya Jumba la BBA STARGAME, nitume kwa kuniandikia playlist itakayo wapagawisha…na shinda very nice cape ya big brother na high quality Tshirt kutoka CloudsFm…legoooooo.”
Fetty ambaye kwa muda alikuwa amepumzika shughuli za udj na kuendelea na utangazaji wa kawaida, amesema imemlazimu kujifua tena ili kuhakikisha kuwa ‘haangushi maembe’ (kumix vibaya nyimbo) wakati atakapokuwa akipiga ngoma.
Amesema mwaliko huo ameupata katikati ya mwezi May na tangu hapo amekuwa akijikumbushia ujuzi kwenye ‘wheels of steel’ kwakuwa hiyo ni nafasi kubwa inayohitaji maandalizi ya kutosha.
Mwaka jana Dj wa kike kutoka kituo cha radio cha YFM cha Ghana Nana Kessewa Adu aka DJ Kess alialikwa pia kuburudisha kwenye Big Brother Amplified.
Hiyo si mara ya kwanza kwa Dj wa Clouds FM kupata mwaliko huo. Mwaka jana Dj Steve B naye alipewa fursa hiyo ya kuonesha ujuzi wa mikono yake kwenye 1 and 2!
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