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styles p - backpack rap lyrics

[verse 1: styles p]
used to transport in the jansport
soul’s on fire, who’s gettin’ the fanned off?
don’t wait for hand off, get you your own team
my sleep’s a piece of sh+t, it been lyin’ the whole dream
had to see the path, yeah, write out my own scheme
they ain’t see the vision so i got me my own screen
i could be silent, still have my own scream
illuminatin’ ghosts, yeah, i got me my own beam
beamin’ wit’ the b’s on ’em, ease on ’em when i squeeze on ’em
this is verbal murder whenever the p’s on it
spray ground bag at the front if you want
’cause you n+ggas know i dump way more than bars (you know)
another spray ground bag in the trunk, mini pump
if i’m goin’ on the hunt, you gettin’ more than scarred
this is backpack ghost, keep your backpack close
me and berner make a strain called, “backpack smoke”

[chorus: cassandra the goddess & styles p]
it’s that backpack rap that you missin’
have you in your backpack
and your whack raps and your whack facts
and your whack trap’s outta comission
it’s d+block, you gotta be kiddin’, b+tch
it’s that backpack rap that you missin’
have you in your backpack
and your whack raps and your whack facts
and your whack trap’s outta comission
it’s d+block, you gotta be kiddin’, (yo) b+tch (huh)
[verse 2: cassandra the goddess]
yo, demand all my corners
take mask off, you mad soft
plug me in, booth, the nation, cnn
look like woman friend, girl by door hidden
goddess ghost (ghost), don’t call me casper
say pardon when i pass, sir
in room ’cause i matter
celibate ’til i sell a bit
don’t get fit ’til start talkin’ my sh+t
can’t touch, mic on my hip, “beat it”
no playin’ wit’ food, gotta eat it
see in poetry, speak in bars, speak+easies
didn’t see me, double entendre cassandra
mans fond of her, most slept on
secret weapon, wreck on tracks like subway rats
backpack, yankee hats, no cap
weird science’d to rap
got gems so we wear jewels
no time for fools, i rocks d+blocks
need more assata’s to our 2pac’s

[chorus: cassandra the goddess & styles p]
it’s that backpack rap that you missin’
have you in your backpack
and your whack raps and your whack facts
and your whack trap’s outta comission
it’s d+block, you gotta be kiddin’, b+tch
it’s that backpack rap that you missin’
have you in your backpack
and your whack raps and your whack facts
and your whack trap’s outta commission
it’s d+block, you gotta be kiddin’, b+tch
[verse 3: styles p]
not god body but godlike (god)
you could get two in your body, the hard life
mans up north, stressed out, gettin’ yard life (salute)
used to have a bus pass, now it’s the car price
if you beef in heave, yeah, i wonder, does god fight?
kinda thoughts i have, stored all in the archives
told you i’m the sun and the moon but i’m star like (i’m star like)
get real close when i listen to pharcyde
break down a break beat
what is a safe street?
keep a .38 so what is a safety? (huh)
told you i’m backpack, told you i’m g too (i told you)
stay if you want but leave if you need to
you gon’ bleed too, what did you read through?
are you an intellect? do we believe you? (do we believe you?)
it don’t really matter though, the goddess will leave you
this is verbal warfare, know that we lethal (d+block)

- styles p lyrics

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