Master of Ceremony

(Heavy bass)

They don’t speak the lingo, they don’t know the code.

But every block got a language, a way the game gets told.

Harlem had it then, we got it now…

Let me break down the math for the ones not allowed.

A band’s a thousand, blue face is a hunnid,

A stick is a pistol, a chop got it drummin’.

Opps are the rivals, the haters, the threats,

If he “slid” then he spun, left the block gettin’ wet.

A plug is the source, what’s connectin’ the pack,

A front is the credit, gotta double it back.

Gas mean strong weed, za mean flame,

Perk is a pill, Addy keepin’ focus in the game.

A dub is a twenty, a zip’s twenty-eight,

If it’s pressure in the air, then it’s smoke on the plate.

A thot is a shorty that’s movin’ too free,

A wifey’s the one that gon’ hold down the key.

Ice is the jewelry, drip is the fit,

Cap mean he lyin’, no truth in his spit.

If he ghost, then he vanished, if he lurk, then he near,

If he pop out, it’s war time, make the whole block clear.

This the code, this the slang, this the cipher, this the creed,

Every word paint a picture, every line plant a seed.

If you know then you know, if you don’t, take heed,

This the lingo of the jungle, where the hungry still feed.

Shorty said “I’m up,” now he mean he got bands,

Paper stacked neat, rubber wrapped in his hands.

But the opps set a plot, tryna spin through the night,

So he “gripped on a stick,” prayed the aim stay right.

Cuz “outside” mean he posted, not duckin’ no beef,

And “locked in” mean he focused, no fold, no grief.

His man caught a case, lawyer talkin’ that cap,

Said he “facing a dime,” tryna bargain it back.

Now his wifey in the cut, she been holdin’ him steady,

Told him “keep your soul clean, always move when you ready.”

But the streets speak a language, it don’t come with a key,

And if you lost in translation, then you lost in the streets.

This the code, this the slang, this the cipher, this the creed,

Every word paint a picture, every line plant a seed.

If you know then you know, if you don’t, take heed,

This the lingo of the jungle, where the hungry still feed.

Every hood got a dialect.

Every corner got its scripture.

Don’t mistake the slang for noise…

It’s the textbook of survival.