You Ain’t Real

Lyrics

[Intro) Yeah (?) [Verse] I done took a nigga's life and I'm not proud of it I'll take yours if you're fucking with my budget I'll do it again, I'on' care if you're my cousin I'll shoot you again if you're bleedin' and still budgin' [Verse] Ya' hide behind this hip-hop genre Thinking that this microphone's gon' make you a mobster So you better wear your Popper Stopper 'Cause I got them things that'll tell you block 'em, block 'em [Verse] Some niggas gon' be real, some gon' be fake Some carry knives, some 38 Some carry chrome revolvers Just in case we gotta solve a problem [Verse] Some niggas gossip 'n' snitch, some whine 'n' bitch Some smack they lips, probably from suckin' dick But bitch made niggas that got bitch-ways Wonderin' from which way my switchblade's comin' [Verse] These niggas today wanna smile in your face Plottin' to take your life 'cause they wanna take your place But no matter what shape, color or size I got bullets that fly fast into all you guys [Verse] So you should stop lookin' at me cross-eyed Before I reach by my thigh and pull out a surprise Pull up on the side of your ride, you and your guy Drive through Popeyes, and pop-pop, you're bye-bye [Chorus] You ain't real You don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game You ain't real Yo, nigga, you don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills, uh You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah [Verse] Fuck you up, that's what I do I'm ill enough to kill a nigga without spilling the gun residue Fat genitals, (?) you, snatch ya' general, hospital 'em Bullets start riddling through [Verse] Funeral drywall, hit him in the middle of his temple Psyclops a nigga for tryna eyeball I got a pistol big enough to send your body On the other side of the lobby fast as Nightcrawler [Verse] I'll ignite and strike harder Stinging them all like alcohol in the hands of a tight barber D12 and Slaughter, Yelawolf and Marshall That lyrical bubonic plague to any artist [Verse] We shady, gangrene 'n' all of imposters Get yo' ass shot like strippers, metamorphosis a nigga Put 'em in coffins 'til he meet the lord with a heart Wonderin' why the pearly gates won't Open [Chorus] You ain't real You don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game You ain't real Yo, nigga, you don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills, uh You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah [Verse] (?) was comin' out the woodworks, spit a good verse But they'on' know how the hood works, catch 'em In the streets They be shook worse than a hooker in a hood church You say, why, Crooked I, before rappin' I was a crook first [Verse] Got a nice chain, I might be clockin' your neck Then I hit a sweet lick, that's a flavor or a flavor Got beef, I got two 9's under my shirt Like a bitch pregnant with twins around a day before a labor [Verse] And if that same bitch treat a player like a neighbor Come give me some sugar, I'ma give her some nuts That's a favor for a favor, I'm harder than before Nigga, I'll Sun Tzu 'em, smart as the Art of War [Verse] Gigantic guns, them the ones my heart adore The way I describe my hammer, y'all prolly just thought of Thor Anybody can get it, talk about killin' niggas you wit' it Talk about killin' cops and it's crickets (pussy) [Chorus] Ay, you ain't real You don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game You ain't real Yo, nigga, you don't kill You ain't got them dollar bills, uh You're just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah