Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
(
“Now here’s what I want y’all to do for me”
)
[Verse 1: Chuck D +
Flavor Flav
]
Back, caught you lookin’ for the same thing
It’s a new thing, check out this I bring
Uh, oh, the roll below the level, ’cause I’m livin’ low
Next to the bass, (C’mon!), turn up the radio
They claiming I’m a criminal
But now I wonder how, some people never know
The enemy could be their friend, guardian
I’m not a hooligan, I rock the party and
Clear all the madness, I’m not a racist
Preach to teach to all (‘Cause, some, they never had this)
Number one, not born to run, about the gun
I wasn’t licensed to have one
The minute they see me, fear me
I’m the epitome of “public enemy”
Used, abused without clues, I refuse to blow a fuse
They even had it on the news
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
“Yes” was the start of my last jam
So here it is again, another def jam
But since I gave you all a little something that I knew you lacked
They still consider me a new jack
All the critics, you can hang ’em, I’ll hold the rope
But they hope to the Pope, and pray it ain’t dope
The follower of Farrakhan
Don’t tell me that you understand until you hear the man
The book of the new school rap game
Writers treat me like Coltrane, insane
Yes to them, but to me I’m a different kind
We’re brothers of the same mind, unblind
Caught in the middle and not surrendering
I don’t rhyme for the sake of riddling
Some claim that I’m a smuggler
Some say I never heard of ya, a rap burglar
False media, we don’t need it, do we?
(It’s fake that’s what it be to ya, dig me?
Yo,
Terminator X
, step up on the stand
And show these people what time it is, boy)
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe the hype, it’s a sequel
As an equal, can I get this through to you?
My ’98 booming with a trunk of funk
All the jealous punks can’t stop the dunk
Coming from the school of hard knocks
Some perpetrate, they drink Clorox
Attack the Black, because I know they lack exact
The cold facts, and still they try to Xerox
The leader of the new school, uncool
Never played the fool, just made the rules
Remember there’s a need to get alarmed
Again I said I was a time bomb
In the daytime radio’s scared of me
‘Cause I’m mad, plus I’m the enemy
They can’t come on and play me in prime time
‘Cause I know the time, ’cause I’m getting mine
I get on the mix late in the night
They know I’m living right, so here go the mic—sike
Before I let it go, don’t rush my show
You try to reach and grab and get elbowed
Word to Herb, yo, if you can’t swing this
Learn the words, you might sing this
Just a little bit of the taste of the bass for you
As you get up and dance at the LQ
When some deny it, defy it, I swing Bolos
And then they clear the lane I go solo
The meaning of all of that, some media is the wack
As you believe it’s true
It blows me through the roof
Suckers, liars, get me a shovel
Some writers I know are damn devils
From them I say, don’t believe the hype
(
Yo, Chuck, they must be on the pipe, right?
)
Their pens and pads I’ll snatch ’cause I’ve had it
I’m not a addict fiending for static
I’ll see their tape recorder, and I grab it
(
No, you can’t have it back, silly rabbit
)
I’m going to my media assassin
Harry Allen—I gotta ask him
(
Yo, Harry, you’re a writer—are we that type?
)
(
Don’t believe the hype
)
(“Now here’s what I want y’all to do for me”)
Don’t believe—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe—
Don’t—
Don’t—
Don’t believe the hype
I got Flavor and all those things, you know
(
Yeah, boy, part two bum rush the show
)
Yo, Griff get the green, black and red, and
Gold down, countdown to Armageddon
’88 you wait the S1’s will
Put the left in effect, and I still will
Rock the hard jams, treat it like a seminar
Reach the bourgeois and rock the boulevard
Some say I’m negative, but they’re not positive
But what I got to give, (The media says this?)
Red, black, and green, you know what I mean?
Yo, don’t believe that hype
They got to be beaming that pipe, you know what I’m saying?
Yo, them Megas got ’em going up to see Captain Kirk
Like a jerk, and they outta work
Let me tell you a little something, man:
A lot of people on daytime radio scared of us
Because they too ignorant to understand the lyrics of the
Truth that we pumping into them clogged-up brain cells
That just spun their little wooden skulls they call caps
You know what I’m saying?
But the S1s’ll straighten it out quick-fast, in a hurry
Don’t worry, Flavor vision ain’t blurry, you know what I’m saying?
Yo, Terminator X
Don’t—
Don’t believe—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t believe—
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t believe the hype
Don’t—
Don’t believe—
Don’t believe the hype
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