| I’m the taxi driver
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| Ridin around with me and my thoughts
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| In the back seat behind me speakin
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| To me while I’m drivin, I’m hearin 'em talk
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| To me sayin' where they wanna go
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| Soon as they get in and they close the door
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| And then I cruise to wherever we ridin'
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| Wherever you can imagine from coast to coast
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| I got a foot on the gas, I got my eye on the road
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| With an open mind as I roll, hopin to spy on my soul
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| I lose control, pull up to a liquor store then get blowed
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| Ridin down skid row, feelin kind of miserable
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| I been the same since my enemies came
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| You play the game, you get a foul, the penalty’s pain
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| Though I got a pen full of poison, the venom is fame
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| The light changes, I take a right on Memory Lane
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| And see, a couple niggas on the corner chillin
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| Lookin more and more familiar closer to 'em I get
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| I pull up, hit the locks, they open the door
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| And hop in and say they names is Hip and Hop
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| So I grin, pretend I don’t know 'em for shit
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| I ask «Ay, homie, why they call you Hip?»
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| He says «I'm hip-notic, hip-ocritical
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| I could say Dear Mama and wonder why they call you bitch
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| I seen drama, I step to the odds lookin at death in the eyes
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| They probably murder me, check my disguise
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| You see it’s money over bitches, bitches bring lies
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| Money bring trouble and trouble wanna follow me
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| Drop me on the corner of Flamingo and Koval
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| And remember all eyes on you
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| Then I come to a stop, he exits the car
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| So I leave and I hear shots
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| I’m the taxi driver
|
| Ridin around with me and my thoughts
|
| In the back seat behind me speakin
|
| To me while I’m drivin, I’m hearin 'em talk
|
| To me sayin' where they wanna go
|
| Soon as they get in and they close the door
|
| And then I cruise to wherever we ridin'
|
| Wherever you can imagine from coast to coast
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| I’m the taxi driver, ridin with one passenger left
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| About to catch a left after I catch my breath
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| Peelin' past them times where niggas blast them nines
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| Paranoid, done already lost half my mind
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| I’m high thinkin' like what if the feds try to out me?
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| I pull up to a stop on a red light at South Street
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| I catch a parade goin by, full of rappers and snappers
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| A Cadillac float full of trapsters
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| Carryin a sign sayin «It's Our Time»
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| I wave sayin I would never diss y’all grind
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| So I’m waitin at the stoplight, South Street is jumpin
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| I look back at Hop like, people call you Hop, right? |
| (Yes!)
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| After that, he’s like «It's a green light
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| You can weave right through, if you got keen sight
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| To make you a right then, head for the valley
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| I’m Going Going to Cali Cali, uhh
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| Trust me, Mo Money Mo Problems
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| Especially when you built for the stars
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| You rather be, drivin your taxi than killed for the car
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| So drop me on the corner of Wilshire Boulevard»
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| I take him to the place he requested
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| I tell him thanks for the message, the cab shakes when he exits
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| I pull off Hypnotized then hear shots
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| And then my engine die soon as they kill Hop
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| What’s on your mind? |
| Who’s in your back seat?
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| Do you go off your own thoughts? |
| Are you even drivin your own car?
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| I know what you thinkin, «This nigga sayin Hip Hop is dead»
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| Don’t take song like I’m sayin we lost Hip Hop, take it like I lost my mind
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| I’m the taxi driver
|
| Ridin around with me and my thoughts
|
| In the back seat behind me speakin
|
| To me while I’m drivin, I’m hearin 'em talk
|
| To me sayin' where they wanna go
|
| Soon as they get in and they close the door
|
| And then I cruise to wherever we ridin'
|
| Wherever you can imagine from coast to coast |