Fake vs Real

[Intro: Sample from [?]]
(Ladies and gentlemen). Well, look at ya. I’d rather get up and do my thing. OK, well let me kind of move these things around. [Yeah, you know. Let me get up and do my thing, understand?]. (I don’t know). Uh, can I, can I, can I really get up, though? Can I, can I, can I, can I get on this thing, really? We’re ready to get into it! (Come on!)

[Verse 1: Pumpkinhead]
Oh, you a killer now? Nigga, you never loaded TECs
Never busted a cap. You just rapped that mess
I’ve been shot once, stabbed twice. I done dirt
You a bitch-ass faggot with a short-ass skirt
You don’t know nothing ‘bout this here, how I work
How I move is so on point. You try to kick
Dirt on my name, but I’m so on point
I’m a human protractor, the real thing and you’re the actor
Who acts up. Back up, get out of my way or get smacked up
I’m from Brooklyn. Sunset from Bed Stuy, where heads get clapped up
And there ain’t no such thing as too young to die
Cats be walking by with they MACs up. Watch your back, punk
Before you get dumped in a back trunk
I’m sorry to say (What?), but you the last one
Who should be telling someone they ain’t do things they said they done
When you the first one to run, hotstepping like
Ini Kamoze—and you got cold feet
That’s some strange shit. Boy, you ain’t shit
You see a gun and you faint quick
You ain’t never gonna change—different day, same shit
Fake shit, fake ice, fake thug. Everywhere I look, same shit
He fronting just on some fame shit
Fronting like you down, I’ma hurt your feeling when I say this:

[Hook: Pumpkinhead]
You not real
You’re faker than the tits on Pamela Lee. Nigga, please
You not real
You just talk that. I walk that—it’s the air that I breathe
I’m so real
And can back up every word of it, but you not murderous
No deal
You ain’t got one and never will—that’s for real

[Verse 2: Pumpkinhead]
You a fake thug that got a fake gun
That bust fake slugs and your boys give you fake love
You got a fake whip, sitting on fake dubs
You rock fake ice from selling them fake drugs
You got a fake chick who love that fake shit
From her fake Prada bag to her fake tits
I can’t take this. All of this fakeness fill me with hatred
In this fake world, everyone wants some fake shit
Whether it’s fake hair, fake clothes, fake kicks
Fake eyes, fake nose, fake lips
Niggas getting cosmetic facelifts on some gay shit
Labels give you fake support to make fake hits
You got big dough, big face, fake hunnids
And give it to that one you loving with that fake baby in her stomach
It’s so hard to stay on the straight and narrow (Why stop?)
When all them fake fans give you fake props
Telling you your shit is hot but it’s not. Now you dead
In a box ‘cause you popped a hot one in your head
Should have listened to what I said: if you live fake, you die fake
Boy, I’m [fed off?] [?] from another body. Tell my folk I’m close to the edge
Then I found out Erica had fake dreads on her head
All that shit is fake. I’ll tell you what’s real:
My boy baby face getting popped twice with the steel
And surviving—that’s real. My boy Luke got shot
And died New Year’s—that’s real
Real thugs don’t tear. We spill beer
Fake thugs been around and they’ll still be here

[Bridge: Pumpkinhead]
Fake vs. real. Real vs. fake
Fake vs. real. Real vs. fake
Fake vs. real. Real vs. fake
Fake niggas gonna die. Real niggas don’t fake

[Hook: Pumpkinhead]
You not real
You’re faker than the tits on Pamela Lee. Nigga, please
You not real
You just talk that. I walk that—it’s the air that I breathe
I’m so real
And can back up every word of it, but you not murderous
No deal
You ain’t got one and never will—that’s for real

[Outro: Pumpkinhead]
Yeah