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"The Renaissance (Premix)" lyrics by HELL RAZAH
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"The Renaissance (Premix)"
[feat. Timbo King & Tragedy Khadafi]


[Intro: Razah]
1-2, 1-2, yo, you could hear me?
1-2 turn me up

[Hell Razah:]
I've been a threat since Benetton Gazelles in Valleys
The Icon in graffiti in the Brooklyn alley
Touch hearts of the Pharaohs in the Egypt valley
My Engineer can't see me 'cause the booth is cloudy
Still rowdy even though we in BM's and Audi's
Looking like Black Saudi's in Black Denali's
I'm a Terrorist attack when I get on the track
If I'm riding Shotgun I need one in my lap
I adapt in any habitat, a BK desert rat
It's war, then we sending back bodies and gats
Flip your white flag homey it get worst than Iraq
We know the CIA game was to frame us with Crack
So each bar's more dope, Heroin in my pen
Got a Marvin back robbing, head 'nodding again
Who you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end
Who's the flop and what's hot got you locked in the Gym
Tell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop 'em a gem
And If he looking for a diamond I could hook 'em with Tim

[Hook: King {Razah}]
I'm hip-hop before SugarHill signed a deal
Before Studio 54 popping pills
It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel
Now we bring the game back into a New York field
I'm hip-hop before SugarHill signed a deal
Before Studio 54 popping pills
I'm hip-hop, {since EPMD You Gots To Chill}
I'm hip-hop, {since Beastie Boys License To I'll}

[Tragedy Khadafi:]
Yo, I'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge
Apostle of the project
Speakerbox with the G-Packs stuffed in a G's closest
I'm tenement Buildings, cement streets, I'm British Walkers
I'm scuff marks on your brand new Alize
5% Nation of Godbodies greeting with peace
I'm Raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock
Spit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks
Last photo of 'Pac before his Beamer got shot
I'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team
Triple beam dream, microphone cream fiend
Top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing
2-5 Costra Nostra, heart of this culture
The game ain't over
I'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you
Against All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to
I'm C-Murder before the life sentence
Predicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hoping over benches

[Hook: King {Razah}]

[Hell Razah:]
All I need is a beat-box
And I'm a run through niggas like Sheep rock
We flop? we gon' have to run up in weed spots
These glocks could send fake niggas to meet 'Pac
We got, the pick that could open your key lock
If Hip-Hop is dead, then this house of madness
I'm a raise the dead out of that mental casket
I know niggas that's 16 that'll sell you Ratchets
That drew when they see any jewelry flashing
I still be at Bk Kool G Rapping
You come through the wrong dude will sell you Aspirin
We still got love for Old Dirty Bastard
We judged by 12, six carry the casket
My gat spit, that's it, niggas do backflips
My black whips pull up to the clubs and bag chicks (Get in, get in)
This rap shit got niggas thinking they that sick (Look at 'em)
'Til sixth grade I stayed on some read and math shit
I'm hood but intelligent, weed it and hashish
When hoes buying clothes off the poles of Saks Fifth
And I don't eat pork, Enzymes and cat-fish
And what you gon' do when the streets is cash-less?
Take 2 pulls of my weed and pass it (Gimme my shit!)
With these beats I'm a toe tag it and body bag it
I don't want a deal if I gotta be a faggot (Nah I'm good)
These homos and 'E' addicts, go'head and have it
'Cause I don't need no money that bad to toss salad
From Brooklyn to Paris stay blowing that cactus
That match with my army jacket, green cabbage
My bars be 24 karats for the average

[Outro: Razah]
'Renaissance Child' - Tragedy Khadafi
Giving y'all niggas that new upgrade
That next level of this Hip-Hop shit
It's the God core music, Hip-Hop is back niggas!

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