M.O.P. - Salute Part II [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

"Yeah, they talkin about rap."
"We don't rap, its not about rap we livin it what they talkin about
It's not about college or what you read in a newspaper or magazine. It's here its reality, this is our nature. It's how we live."

[Verse One: Guru]
Now everybody on Earth wanna rap, we birthed all of that
Knocked up the game, and cold broke its back
Gang Starr, with Billy Danze and Big Slap
Word to Laze, Big Scoob and big gats
You didn't whip it right so pick up the pace
Word to grimy niggas, they want to stick up the place
Word to hip hop, plus a crib that's laced
Primo's breaks, activate the mental to solve
We got credentials galore, fuck a small vending tour
Yet and still, I be at the around-the-way spots
Near where niggas be slinging innocent get hit by straight shots
And brave cops, protect the community
While corrupt cops, be harassing you and me
Pulling me over, in front of the crib, in front of my neighbors
Asking for favors, here's a cassette and why you
Question my behavior?
Pursuing me, trying to catch me off guard
I shrug scars, you see a lot of hoes at thug bars
I don't care what these beats might do
We'll sun you, plus I see right through
It's way it means to me and M.O.P
Just To Get a Rep, nigga, you best to step, nigga
Salute!

[Scratch Hook]
Holdin it down ----] Billy Danze
Phony ass rappers ----] Guru
Dead serious ----] ??
Finish em ----] Lil' Fame
(Is this hip hop) Hell no this is war ----] Billy Danze
Heavy artillery, in my vicinity ----] Lil' Fame
*repeat, change 5th line to: M.O.P.*

[Verse Two: Billy Danze]
Aiyyo, the game's called survival *echoes* I admit
As a soldier, I've done a lot of shit
To the so-called tough dude, I ain't mad at you
But I wish I wouldn't of had to do the shit I had to do
It's true, I would jump up in a Bamma
And travel miles of road to unload this hammer
(And I) Notice ?colors? when they glance
At the baby boy of Haddy and Frank Danze
I won't stress to blazin
But I will think about what size slug best for the occasion
(It's so amazing) That it never worry me
Pop shit like Windy Williams till you fuckers bury me
(Who we be!) What, what's wrong, nigga?
(First Family) Come, come on, nigga!
(Ain't nothin cute) My niggas is ready to shoot
For the love of the First Family thugs
Salute!

[Hook]

[Verse Three: Lil' Fame]
Before you slit your wrist, bitch, imagine this
M.O.P., Gang Starr (Damn!) hazardous
Thugs that got love for this hip hop and shit
Makin words rhyme at the same time poppin shit
I used to go to jams, and drop grammar
Before I left niggas told me (Boy take your hammer!)
Sure nuff, shit got rowdy
Dumped off my first clip at a house party
I love this rap shit, though, the love is clear
But fuck the parties, my nigga, I lost a brother there
Only if I'm gettin paid (That's right)
And the shit gon' benefit the trade
I snatch a mic, turn it out, bet
Even have you smooth niggas fuckin up yours shoes and your outfit
I be, the Brownsville slugger (Signing out)
Act like you know what I'm about
Salute!

[Hook]

*Premier scratches to fade*