It’s been two years since I done it, now all the rappers want it, what?
She ain’t know the Casio cost a hundred
‘Cause this is hip hop baby
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
I style crazy and act like Jay-Z
Slow down son, you’re killin’ ‘em, well funded it was not
Throw you hands up when we in the house

No we can push more whips than slavery
Baby, you’re like, what the fuck? There is no other
But show out baby and show me you ain’t gon’ act right
You thirsty niggas can’t stop my feast, uh

‘Cause this is hip hop baby
On the sink, got my mama a mink
And tell your girl that the tickets is out
Yeah, this is hip hop baby

When it come to hip hop it’s just me and my bitch, uh

I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby

My dick is like a Blow Pop baby

You heard the bitch is you, yeah I know what’s beef
‘Cause this is hip hop baby
‘Cause this is hip hop baby
And we gon’ do it till they kickin’ us out
Everybody I’d like to announce
The backpacker copped the Porsche and drove to his city

And tell your girl that the tickets is out
Throw you hands up when we in the house
Live from the South Side this one
Now all the little bitties from ugly to pretty

Everybody I’d like to announce
Raps or bullets, see them rappers, they be duckin’
Unzip the backpack, pull out a fifth of Jack
Came to shitty deals, reminiscing give me chills
Think Common is the link, thought the game was extinct
I was the magician mesmerize ‘em, made ‘em listen
I still love her, she be needin’ the dick
Sorry Mr. William moved out the building

When Puff was with Biggie, Versace on every niggie
Lay there, them jeans is as slim as Shady
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
And it gets stiffer than some Botox baby
Everybody I’d like to announce

Valet crushed my Rolls so quickly I bought another
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
Broads say, “Are you a philosopher?”
When Com be buckin’ in the kitchen, fuckin’
Yeah, this is hip hop baby

I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
Freestyle paid off so Lincoln paid me
The black Kojak, I get money and want mo’ stacks
Brought ‘em back from the 80’s, now let’s make some babies

The rap photographer, the way the flow stop

Yeah, this is hip hop baby
Yeah, this is hip hop baby
Everybody I’d like to announce
Throw you hands up when we in the house
Spot to the top, fifty feet with was the ceiling
I’ll probably go to jail for, naw that ain’t me
And we gon’ do it till they kickin’ us out
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
Let it cook and I pop like grease
And we gon’ do it till they kickin’ us out
And we gon’ do it till they kickin’ us out
And tell your girl that the tickets is out

And tell your girl that the tickets is out
Hide your gun, representing Chi-Town to the fullest
Alex Haley and this rap shit, my roots is deep
And I’ll be pedaling backwards like a track bike
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby

I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
“Yeah yeah, I philosophize on top of ya” Uh!
Throw you hands up when we in the house
I’m fin’ to take you to the tip top baby
As I sit back, relax with Chicago on my back