Phony Rappers

Phony rappers, who do not write Phony rappers, who do not excite Phony rappers, check it out, a'ight Yo, I was ridin' the train And this Puerto Rican kid said simple and plain, "Let's battle" It kinda took me by surprise 'Cause the brother was movin' wit' his eyes on the prize I said, "Screw it, I ain't got nuttin' to lose, but um But I got to do this shit real quick, so um Hurry up, kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine And I'll be out 'cause I gotta see this hun", he said, "Okay" "Yo, check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah" That's what he said Then I came back and just fucked up his head 'Cause yo, he thought an MC who was seen on TV Couldn't hold his shit down in New York City Aiyo, I showed his ass then I went off on my task To bless her ass Uptown, real MC's will hold it down Yeah, yeah, sonny, to the beat like that You wanna bring it to me? Where you at? Yes, dread, I had a similar situation Where this kid tried to tell me I didn't deserve my occupation He said I wasn't shit, that I was soon to fall I looked him up and down, grabbed my crotch and said balls Of course he tried to bring it on the battlin' tip And you know me, you know I had to come out my shit Tryin' to lounge at the mall, me, Skeff and Mr. Walt And finally I banged his ass with the verbal assault He said a rhyme about his .45 and his nickel bags of weed That's when I proceeded to give him what he needed Talkin' 'bout "I need a Phillie right before I get loose", poor excuse Money, please, I get loose off of orange juice Preferably Minute Maid 'Cause that's exactly what it takes to write a rhyme, huh So screw your nickels and your dimes Because an MC like me be on TV Don't mean I can't hold my shit down in NYC Phony rappers, who do not write Phony rappers, who do not excite Phony rappers, you know they type Phony rappers, check it It seems there's a sanitation, y'all full of trash talker Soundin' good, but money, can you be the dog walker? Talkin' 'bout your mic days and your breakdancin' Not enhancin', you sound tired and... Oh, shit, I didn't know you like to play yourself in front'cha friends Sittin' there, lyin' to no end MC's for me make things happen Talk about a world but in the form of rappin' Who will be the captain of this ship? If it goes down, don't you know you have to go wit' it? Just because you rhyme for a couple of weeks Doesn't mean that you've reached the MC's peak Let me stop soundin' all bitter Ghetto child, never be a quitter But don't be a phony in the litter Take it as a letter from the better Take it from a man who used to rhyme in busted-ass Jettas Yo, Phife, you need a condom? Word to God Mess around, I catch AIDS from MC's bein' on my nuts too hard 'Cause on my boulevard, you better bring your bodyguard And what's your boulevard? L.B., I represent naturally So don't step on the boulie if you know that you're phony Or else I'll bend that ass like elbow macaroni 'Cause I gotta keep it real (gotta keep it real) yep! A Tribe Called Quest, you see, we never half step So on your mark, get ready, MC's be jetty Me and Phife be hangin' like Veronica and Betty, Archie, Jughead Snuffin' MC's from Brainslane down to Hempstead Yes 'Quence, see over His rhyme style is older that a Chrysler Cordoba I'm wilder than the cats from Arizona Villanova, uh, uh, Kentucky Who's the next MC steppin' up to try and bust me? Bring him here and boy, will I ever let him have it And when it comes to the microphone, don't even try to grab it What? "This feeling of embarrassment This shyness, this bashfulness... If you take that out of the people Then these people will do whatever they want to do And that is the very definition of America A people who have no shame And therefore, they do whatever they want to do"