Sir Mix-A-Lot - Hip Hop Soldier

I'm a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier

All you wannabe gangstas, drivin' Volkswagens
Chillin' at the high schools, broke but braggin'
Under-educated, your style is dated
You talk behind my back and your rope's gold-plated
But I'm back to take revenge, my beef will never end
I'll drill your midsection, 'til your body starts to bend
Like a pistol, I'ma smokin'
I'm crushin', not jokin'
Whippin' sissies for a past time, and no I'm never chokin'
I blow away suckers with the flicker of my index
Not brass monkey, it's a natural reflex
Cold ghetto tactics, makin' suckers holla
A vicious motherfucker with a rope around my collar
I carry lots a cash, I whip a sucker's ass
I drive a big Caddy, and I pull the trigger fast
Down at Arnold's on the Ave, I'm fightin' 'til the death
I let you sock my in my chest, and then I break your damn neck
I got the cold beats rippin', your needle's not skippin'
So many damn weapons that the military's trippin'
People in Seattle hate me 'cause I'm not like a hood
But you rock heads wish that you could

Be a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier

Now let's get one thing straight, my weapons are great
You .22 automatic suckers are late
Got a quarter Moon clip, and a Smith and Wesson
I'm about to give you roody-poos a cold gun lesson
I'm the wizard of mayhem, master of destruction
Got a .44 Mag, with the blunt instructions
Page 1 says open, page 2 says fill
Page 3 says cock, page 4 says kill
A mini 14, full combat dress
A thirty round clip, and I ain't takin' no mess
'Cause I'm a rough aggressor, a camouflage dresser
My M16 has a flash suppressor
My Sterling Mark 6 is funny but it hits
It looks sideways but the sucker will kick
I pack of dangerous Beretta, kinda small but it's good
Some of you wannabes wish that you could

Be a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier

Now I'm about to get ghost, so I better clean up
I'm not advocatin' crime, but you gotta get tough
I don't believe in gun control, the theory is proven
Give a criminal a gun, and your public is losin'
So you gotta fight back, 'cause the pigs ain't black
No protection in your section, now it's time to act
A .22 won't do, you need rapid fire
I'm a ammo collector, not a dumb gun buyer
Big battle rifles, can make a suckers day
You mess around with Mix-A-Lot, you might get blown away
Wearin' five gold rings, never intimidated
In Seattle they are jealous 'cause a brother has made it
But they don't mess with me 'cause they might get Iced
I'm not a gay rapper, I don't like to get knifed
The devil made me do it, and I wannabe good
Don't you roody-poos wish that you could

Be a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier

I'm runnin' hollow point bullets in my .38
So if you plan to get ill, you better stay in your place
'Cause I'm not a game player, I'm just a rhyme sayer
My vigilante group includes my mayor
I pack two Uzis 'cause they stop all crime
You might get yours, but don't let me get mine
I never beat woman, romance is better
If a freak wants to leave, boy, you might as well let her
West coast rappers, we all bust hard
When we're chillin' on the set, we never need a bodyguard
People in Seattle hate me 'cause I'm not like a hood
Some of you wannabes wish that you could

Be a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier
I'm a hip hop soldier

Written by:
Anthony L. Ray

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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