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Phony rappers, who do not write |
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Phony rappers, who do not excite |
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Phony rappers, check it out, aight |
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Yo, I was riding the train |
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And this Puerto Rican kid said simple and plain |
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Let's battle, it kinda took me by surprised |
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'Cuz the brother was moving wit' his eyes on the prize |
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I said screw it, I ain't got nuttin' to lose but um |
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But I got to do this shit real quick so um |
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Hurry up kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine |
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And I be out 'cuz I got to see this hottie, he said, "Okay" |
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Now check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah |
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That's what he said |
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Then I came back and just fucked up his head |
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'Cuz yo, he thought an MC who was seen on TV |
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Couldn't hold the shit down in New York City |
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Aiyyo, I showed his ass, then I went off on my task |
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To bless her ass Uptown, real MC's will hold it down |
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Yeah, yeah, sonny, to the beat like that |
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You wanna bring it to me, where you at |
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Yes, dread, I had a similiar situation |
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When this kid tried to tell me I didn't deserve my occupation |
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He said I wasn't shit that I was soon to fall |
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I looked him up and down, grab my crotch and said balls |
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Of course he tried to bring it on the battling tip |
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Ay, you know me, you know I had to come out my shit |
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Trying to lounge at the mall, meet Skef and Mr Walton |
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Finally I banged his ass wit' the verbal assault |
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He said a rhyme about his .45 and his nickelbags of weed |
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That's when I preceeded to give him what he needed |
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Talking 'bout I need a Phillie right before I get loose |
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Poor excuse, money please, i get loose off of orange juice |
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Preferly Minute Maid 'cuz that's exactly what it takes |
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To write a rhyme, huh, to school your nickels and your dimes |
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Because an MC like me be on TV |
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Don't mean I can't hold my shit down in NYC |
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Phony rappers, who do not write |
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Phony rappers, who do not excite |
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Phony rappers, you know they type |
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Phony rappers, check it |
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It seems there's a sanitation, y'all full of thrash talker |
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Sounding good but money can you feed the dog hawker |
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Talking 'bout your mic days and your breakdancing |
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Not enhancing, you sound tired |
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Oh, shit, I didn't know you like to play yourself in front'cha friends |
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Sitting there, lying to no end |
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MC's for me make things happening |
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Talk about a world but in a form of rapping |
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Who will be the captain of this ship |
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If it goes down, don't you know you have to go wit' it |
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Just because you rhyme for a couple of weeks |
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Doesn't mean that you've reach the MC's peak |
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Let me stop sounding all bitter |
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Ghetto child, never be a quitter |
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But don't be a phony in the litter |
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Take it as a letter from the better |
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Take it from a man who used to rhyme in busted ass jetta's |
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Yo, Phife, you need a condom |
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Word to God, mess around |
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I catch AIDS from MC's being on my nuts too hard |
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'Cuz on my boulevard you better bring your bodyguard |
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And what's your boulevard, LP, I represent naturally |
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So don't step on the rolly if you know that you're phony |
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Or else I bend that ass like Elbow Macaroni |
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'Cuz I gotta keep it real |
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(Gotta keep it real) |
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A Tribe Called Quest, you see we never half step |
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(So on your mark) |
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Get ready, MC's be jetti |
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Me and Phifey be on ya like Veronica and Betty |
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Archie, Jughead, snuffing Mc's |
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From Brainslane down to Hempstead |
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Yes 'Quence, see over |
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His rhyme style is older that a Chrysler Cordoba |
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I'm wilder then the cats from Arizona |
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Villanova, un, un, Kentucky |
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Whos' the next MC stepping up to try and bust me |
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Bring him here and boy, will I ever let him have it |
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And when it comes to the microphone, don't even try to grab it |
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What? |
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This feeling of |
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Embarassment |
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[Incomprehensible] |
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If you take that out of the people |
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Then these people would do whatever they want to do |
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And that is weird defination of America |
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And people have no shame and therefore they do |
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Whatever they want to do |
