Hit List Songtext
von Saafir

Look, I need somethin′ to get my head right, you know what I'm sayin′?
You gonna share some blessins with me?
(Please, please)
Yeah, I got you man, the medicine for you
This is my prescription for you
(Ah, that's what I'm talkin′ about)
Yes, yes
(This is that, this is that, that Maui Wowie, right?)
This is the truth, so help you God
(Alright, so uh, after smokin′ this I'll understand some
Of that shit you be talkin′ about in your rhymes, right?)
Probably not

Uh, yeah, yeah
The Fear in the house, you know what I'm sayin′?
Layin' it down with my nigga Sonny Black
′Bout to spit this shit to you
You might be on this mothafucka, man
You know, haha


Since the death of the first two icons
I've been wonderin' who′s gonna be the next to plummet in the dirt
Somebody is puttin′ in major work
And droppin' the line on these top of the line rhymers
You know who was the first and the second MC
The shit tempts me to keep practicin′ my aim at the shootin' range
And keep my vest (Vest) in close range to my chest
Say a prayer to the game, ′cause shit won't be the same after this
I heard they (Who is they?) I don′t know, but you know what they say
Don't believe it 'til you see it, but now, peep it
Haven′t seen Special Ed, Daddy Kane or Supernat
Death′s comin' free and this shit is startin′ to worry me (Why?)
'Cause this shit got to be connected to a much deeper plot
Maybe the government is feelin′ it since they seein' the taxes
Of these millionaire black men rappin′ (Rappin')
Imagine if they got fed up and attached a contract
To touch these prophetic lips
Believe me, it be called the hit list

But it never happens to ya if ya hitless
So you better stay sharp and your mental fitness
And always holla at your folies about business
What is this? The hit list


The newspapers read "De La Soul is dead"
The stakes is higher than hellfire
Shocked the news, travels like a live wire through the Mississippi
Kidnapped rock this from a club bathroom
Bartender slipped him a Mickey (Uh)
Everybody in hip-hop is trigger itchy
One of the Pharcyde got smoked in a hotel in Poughkeepsie
Upstate with no backin'
I′m packin′ heat like an immigrant, work Nike factory
I feel like somebody is watchin' me
I got eyes in the back of my head and under my balls
Pissin′ from outside bathroom door stalls
Watchin' my back without a pause (Without a pause)
Scarface in Houston tryin′ not to catch a bullet scar
Ridin' to the studio in bulletproof cars
ATF had a shootout in Safeway
With Facemob, a cashier worked in a grocery
Bagger (Bagger) was tagged up, body bagged up
Pedestrians meetin′ the concrete
Gettin' faces and body parts scraped up
Facemob swervin' through as they may
Stayin′ safe and cut his part in the hit list

But it never happens to ya if ya hitless
So you better stay sharp and your mental fitness
And always holla at your folie about business
What is this? The hit list

Uh, what is this? The hit list
Uh, uh, the hit list, some sick shit over glove shit
Mister Sonny Black with them fly-ass tracks, Jack
You slippin′ like bait on a fishin' rod
I′m tryin' to manipulate your fate, I′m tryin' to get you, God
′Cause you Taylor Mark Mays need communion good and plenty
Your soldier's term G.I. Jane more than Demi
Keep your hustle on, Kinko, God got blessins to give me
Hold the Remy in a night chair (Night chair)
Spit my plot to my partners and hoes sittin' around in nightwear
Crackin′ the window, a slight air, a nigga feel twisted
The story, the hit list