You Ain’t Real

Lyrics

[Intro] Niggas Niggas Niggas Niggas Niggas [Verse 1] Brothers wanna know what's goin' on about the 411 On the group, and so on and so forth So what you talk for, you know what I came for A motherfuckin' ground war Talkin' that same old style Same old song, same old thang Sweatin' yourself, you're gettin' busy, yo Huh, but you still can't hang I'd rather rip, and still the flip trip On the mic grip and hit, and then trip Into, but never, ever miss, yo You still ain't shit Thinkin' you're all that, you've got The rep and props, but you still can't rap Wanna talk about a wannabe, never gonna be Ever gonna be, who's gonna see? Come near here, come here child, yeah I got flavor, style, compare Hold the beat, stop the beat, drop the beat Yo, you can't compete You wanna steal my voice, steal our sound Steal my beats, you wanna fuck around I don't play son, shorts do I take none You need help, better call 911 Or the Beatles, or Susanna Drink you up like a cup of Tropicana Juice, I got more, flowin' like a river Yeah, style's what I give ya Shakin' 'em, keep fakin' 'em, make-make-makin' 'em Takin' 'em, bakin' 'em, no mistakin' the Dope, hyper, raw, def MC Wanna talk about a man, yo, who is he Or she? You got nerve to even talk that What about that? Yeah, what's up with that? Rumor talkin', we can't make a hit We've been makin' hits while you've been suckin' dicks Around the town, lookin' for a hardcore deal Yeah, you ain't real [Chorus] Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (You ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Who are you? You ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Man) Niggas (Get out my face) [Verse 2: Kool Keith] Yeah, motherfuckers wanna blast I keep rhymes in store for they ass They ain't got the style to kick no shit I bust rhymes and heat and just blow shit Out, let me ask one question You think I fell off? Well, come test then You ain't the man to stop the Big X Fuck around, be calm and wait next Yes, shit is gettin' wild Very wild, slick and much wild But watch when I come with the Rhythm X shit Then after that, motherfuckers wanna quit Whether or not, you like it or not, you're wack, it's true Your whole crew sound doo-doo I keep tissue to wipe the first face I'm like a team that stays in first place Winnin', like the motherfuckin' Giants You got rhymes to kick? Then drop science Math, English, fuck it, I said it Yo Ced, come and grab the mic [Verse 3: Ced Gee] Yo, let's begin with a phrase that's quite hype I'll control with soul, Gee get right Into the mix like a DJ spinnin' on The crowd is buggin', rememberin' "Bring it On" The phrase that stand to all that wanna try To step to the Gee, get roast and I wonder why Hmm, like Arsenio Hall says, I think You rhyme like butter, you're soft and you're quite stink Tryin' to perpetrate, sayin' you're hard, right? You hit money grip you're fake like a bad night- Mare with Freddy (Freddy), you know you're not ready (Ready) You sound immature, like a amateur petty (Petty) Yeah (You ain't ready) To step on the stage, get hit with the rhyme jab Just like the Flintstones, I'll break like Bamm-Bamm Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam, I'll smoke ya You slept on the Gee, better yet, true Ultra But now we're back and MCs we're slappin' We're givin' no slack and, 'cause you're wack and Yeah, you ain't real [Chorus] Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Who are you? You ain't real) Niggas (Yeah, you ain't real) Niggas (Man, get out my face)