Hip Hop Heroes

Our mixtape’s going platinum,

We may not even make an album after this, we’ll have to check our schedules and get back to ya.

All the other rappers in the game are getting slapped up

By a couple of white boys in a basement with a MacBook.

Our style is spectacular, you pussies feel immaculate,

If you ain’t backing up, you’re getting shit on when our tracks run.

We’re known as the Pussy Crew,

RoslanSkeet and Original,

Making panties hit the floor since Snoop was sipping Gin & Juice.

In a minute you about to get consumed

By music (you) didn’t know existed, but it’s better than that shit you listen to.

I’m vicious when I’m ripping fools,

I’ll diss your crew, your bitches too,

I’ll sacrifice you for the sake of ancient rituals.

Don’t have the patience for your basic skill level, we’re criminal,

Fuck every other rapper, we're about to kill em too.

 

We’re what the Rap Game’s been needing,

Hip Hop is in need of saving.

We’re the caped crusading villains,

Here to tell you fuck your feelings.

You love to hate us we know it,

But that’s something we’ll get over.

Right now we’re just on a mission

To show you fucks what you're missing.

 

It's RoslanSkeet the vigilante,

I'll up the ante when I kill your family

Apparently y'all can't stand me,

Cause I'm in a new beef every damn week,

Everybody wants me, I'm like an antique,

Get off your damn knees, here comes the stampede,

I'll make you bitches shit your granny panties,

You don't start real beef, you bring a can of SPAM meat.

They want to take my title, that ain't gonna happen.

I know I'm Scotian's idol cause I autographed his napkin.

Raheem couldn't write a diss to save his hairy ass and,

Every time McKoo comes at me he just gets his ass kicked.

Wicked Wizard couldn’t spit a sicker diss if he was dealing penicillin.

I’m a villain, hide your children, else this shit’ll influence em,

Our lyrics are just too extensive, penetrating through your brain and disconnecting you from sensing what I’m saying.

 

We’re what the Rap Game’s been needing,

Hip Hop is in need of saving.

We’re the caped crusading villains,

Here to tell you fuck your feelings.

You love to hate us we know it,

But that’s something we’ll get over.

Right now we’re just on a mission

To show you fucks what you're missing.

 

You ain’t ready for our shit, we’re off the charts,

We rip it like the legends did before they lost their spark.

We spit the Mona Lisa of rap, it’s flawless art,

You fucking sissies are about to get torn apart.

We cross our hearts that we gonna make you see

Hip hop performed the way it’s supposed to be.

Not by fake ass thugs and fucking wannabe G’s,

But by kids with real talent, real fucking MCs.

This whole thing is gonna be a tragedy

When you're still in the studio practicing,

While we get our pictures taken for magazines,

You’re gonna hate us til we release our last CD.

But deep down inside, you know you’re glad we arrived,

Stepped in to save the game before hip hop died.

So let me tell you faggots just one last time,

Original and Skeet are raps new masterminds.

 

We’re what the Rap Game’s been needing,

Hip Hop is in need of saving.

We’re the caped crusading villains,

Here to tell you fuck your feelings.

You love to hate us we know it,

But that’s something we’ll get over.

Right now we’re just on a mission

To show you fucks what you're missing.