You Ain't Real

[Verse One]

I been bustin rhymes since 84

And motherfuckers got the nerve to ask me to do a free show

Aint that a Bitch, with a capital B

If I rap it'll be, for pay, here on out, never free

This ain't the day for being fraud

Every fool that gotta tape out in the rap game

be swearin up and down they hard

The most pimpiness, the most mackiness

pushin most keys, hardest nigga, most jackiness

I used to have a lotta partners in the game

Till a struggle came, and just like a women, it make a man change

You need to quit being fake and illegite

Don't be asking me how many tapes I sold if you ain't buy my shit

Steppin to K-Rino, lips in a straight pucker

Little sweet potato pie ass motherfuckers

The game you runnin boy gon' get you straight killed or hurt

Tryna cap, when you know we both broke as dirt

[Hook]

Cuz you ain't real, motherfucker, you ain't real

Poppin all that weak shit, thinking you got skill

You ain't real, motherfucker, you ain't real

Claiming you the man when you out there in the field

[Verse Two]

I ain't no gangsta, but sometimes I fuck around wit 'em

But every homeboy that I roll wit', they know that I'll get down wit 'em

I spit my trash going deep from the past flowin

I'm tired of girls walkin around wit they ass showin

The cash growin, gettin dollars shoved up your crack

Half them fools getta dance and snatch they paper back

Next day she waitin, for the bus, on the cut, check it

17 years old, dancing at there butt naked

Disrespected, unprotected, think you built to last

Same crusty little panties on your filthy ass

Talkin bout you own a good man, you lyin now

At the motherfuckin flea market buying hair

Getting ready to hit the club at 12 'o clock mid

Callin around tryna find somebody to keep your kids

Gotta ??nuttin?? on the way, still smokin blunts

Pregnant than a motherfucker, in the club at seven months

[Hook]

Cuz you ain't real, lil mama, you ain't real

Hoppin your ass in every car that pass, you better chill

You ain't real, you ain't real, lil mama, you ain't real

Fake eyes, fake hair, fake nails, fake grill

[Verse Three]

I used to tell my little homeboy, "don't run wit' them fools

Aint nuthin but murder in them streets, why don't you done go to school"

Broke down all the drama that they gave K-Rino

How they show my album cover on that cop killin show

How ourself, and the government, keep holdin us back

How them punk ass, perpetratin hoes invented that crack

How a black man a sell is soul once he get rich

How he fuck over a women and then call her a bitch

North side against the south side, leave it alone

Killin eachother over land that we don't even own

Understand that's the plan, I'm tired of sayin that shit

I'm smokin this, i'm smokin that, why the radio playin that shit

I try to do right, but tonight, I might as well blast

Let the preacher give the sermon while he sang for yo ass

And when I click, on these haters, all the laughin gonna stop

Pop pop, pop pop pop, till the whole world drop, cuz you ain't real

[Hook]

You ain't real, motherfucker, you ain't real

Tryna buy some Jordans wit a 20 dollar bill (you ain't real)

You ain't real, motherfucker, you ain't real

Claiming you my homeboy, but trick, I know the deal (you aint real)