She's struggling to breathe
I got blood on my hands, but can't leave
I'm propping up her head while thinking, this is weave?
Damn, she used to be so real, but couldn't cope.
Now she speaks only about guns and dope.
I hope today isn't the day she passes on.
She's looking so weak right now, please be strong.
So many depend on you to carry on,
But so many pretend to love you.
When the storm comes, they disappear
and I'm starting to fear,
That I can't carry you alone
You're heart's turned stone
Would somebody please pick up the phone
cuz when Hip-Hop dies, she's gone

CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down
and the bullet's in her heart
and it's piercing through her soul
I feel her body getting cold

Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that my love's been shot
and she's falling apart
Please bring back Hip-Hop of old
I see the game is getting cold

Verse II (Dom Jones)
I’m breathing heavy as they keep firing shots
Won't someone come and protect me
My legacy is in jeopardy
I’m bleeding presently
No one’s dialing the cops
Take over hostilely
Fakers plotting to body me
Waiting for all the sauntering, swagger jacking and all the beef to stop
In reality, none of this shit embodies me
Can’t believe I’m laying here thinking of all you promised me
Blinked back tears, now all I am is a novelty on the block
A commodity, record exec's property
A dying genre
Formerly known as artistry
And please pardon me
Pop is blocking my arteries
But with my last breath, I’ll take us back to the top

CHORUS: (Dom Jones)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and the bullet's in my heart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold

Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and I'm falling all apart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold

VERSE III:
180degrees
Ass backwards more concerned with the fees
Then the brothas RIP'd on the baggy ass tees
Please save her
She's begging in the pews on knees
Address real issues, teen sex and HIV.
Doctors saying she'll survive only 8x3
Time's ticking and the written words turned to disease.
What's popular will change like the leaves on trees.
While the fake blows away with the breeze.
Call 9-1-1

CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down
and the bullet's in her heart
and it's piercing through her soul
I feel her body getting cold

CHORUS: (Dom Jones)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and I'm falling all apart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold