| 歌曲 | Fake MC's |
| 歌手 | Killah Priest |
| 专辑 | Heavy Mental |
| 作词 : Bogard, Reed | |
| Intro: They got a problem now know | |
| I'msayin? | |
| Too many corny rappers... know | |
| I'msayin? | |
| Pretenders, know | |
| I'msayin? | |
| Chorus: {2 | |
| X} Theres too many phony | |
| MC's out there this year ya best to beware | |
| I've burnt thousands already so get ready, lyrics are deadly | |
| Verse One: | |
| Niggaz keep frontin, ain't saying nuthin | |
| Killah Priest remains calm, yet carry on go ahead sing your song, claim you have the dons rap superstars look cute with your cigars bitches like that, where your mics at bite me | |
| I bite back, plus | |
| I break backs fuck you, you can sue me, from yours truly niggaz sound booty theres too many rappers in the east wanna be gangsters too many gangsters in the west wanna be rappers bunch of actors, | |
| I ought to smack ya, who's your master sit down take a lesson, stop guessin for years | |
| I had grace, saw your mad face it only shows bad taste runnin around like your delirious foamin from the mouth like you're furious | |
| I'd rather be serious, it keeps the audience curious these fantasies ain't nothin for your fans to see it might cause casualties | |
| Hollywood is not your neighborhood and if it is, give the mic to | |
| Natalie Woods and y'all can be all to be the wizard the wonderful | |
| Wizard of | |
| Oz, which are the | |
| A & R's and you a | |
| Toto doing promos, along with the scarecrow you receive no dough | |
| Chorus: {2 | |
| X} Verse Two: | |
| I lay in the cut like peroxide looking at ya cock-eyed, cuz your music sound lop-side they sound tounge tied, butch of young guys, have 'em hung high watched they lungs fry, from the sunshine which is one rhyme generating from the mind | |
| Killah Priest now late, | |
| I terminate burn and break, and intimidate | |
| I come cold as when the winter break | |
| I put it into snakes, pretenders and fakes shake, like the earthquakes, | |
| I judge wisely between two pillars of poison ivy for those that despise me, attach 'em to the | |
| I.V. your pops should've bust you on the couch or sent you down the mouth next time where a condom, when | |
| I step upon them | |
| I make emcees memories, whenever theres a symphony | |
| I look sinfully, been doing this for centuries | |
| I write shit sick as | |
| Shakespeare tripping off of acid roll at you like | |
| John The Baptist with a rusty hatchet | |
| I preach the word of | |
| God before | |
| I murder y'all swear | |
| I never heard of y'all | |
| Chorus: {2.5 | |
| X} |
| zuò cí : Bogard, Reed | |
| Intro: They got a problem now know | |
| I' msayin? | |
| Too many corny rappers... know | |
| I' msayin? | |
| Pretenders, know | |
| I' msayin? | |
| Chorus: 2 | |
| X Theres too many phony | |
| MC' s out there this year ya best to beware | |
| I' ve burnt thousands already so get ready, lyrics are deadly | |
| Verse One: | |
| Niggaz keep frontin, ain' t saying nuthin | |
| Killah Priest remains calm, yet carry on go ahead sing your song, claim you have the dons rap superstars look cute with your cigars bitches like that, where your mics at bite me | |
| I bite back, plus | |
| I break backs fuck you, you can sue me, from yours truly niggaz sound booty theres too many rappers in the east wanna be gangsters too many gangsters in the west wanna be rappers bunch of actors, | |
| I ought to smack ya, who' s your master sit down take a lesson, stop guessin for years | |
| I had grace, saw your mad face it only shows bad taste runnin around like your delirious foamin from the mouth like you' re furious | |
| I' d rather be serious, it keeps the audience curious these fantasies ain' t nothin for your fans to see it might cause casualties | |
| Hollywood is not your neighborhood and if it is, give the mic to | |
| Natalie Woods and y' all can be all to be the wizard the wonderful | |
| Wizard of | |
| Oz, which are the | |
| A R' s and you a | |
| Toto doing promos, along with the scarecrow you receive no dough | |
| Chorus: 2 | |
| X Verse Two: | |
| I lay in the cut like peroxide looking at ya cockeyed, cuz your music sound lopside they sound tounge tied, butch of young guys, have ' em hung high watched they lungs fry, from the sunshine which is one rhyme generating from the mind | |
| Killah Priest now late, | |
| I terminate burn and break, and intimidate | |
| I come cold as when the winter break | |
| I put it into snakes, pretenders and fakes shake, like the earthquakes, | |
| I judge wisely between two pillars of poison ivy for those that despise me, attach ' em to the | |
| I. V. your pops should' ve bust you on the couch or sent you down the mouth next time where a condom, when | |
| I step upon them | |
| I make emcees memories, whenever theres a symphony | |
| I look sinfully, been doing this for centuries | |
| I write shit sick as | |
| Shakespeare tripping off of acid roll at you like | |
| John The Baptist with a rusty hatchet | |
| I preach the word of | |
| God before | |
| I murder y' all swear | |
| I never heard of y' all | |
| Chorus: 2. 5 | |
| X |