You Ain’t Real

[Intro)
Yeah
(?)

[Verse]
I done took a nigga’s life and I’m not proud of it
I’ll take yours if you’re fucking with my budget
I’ll do it again, I’on’ care if you’re my cousin
I’ll shoot you again if you’re bleedin’ and still budgin’

[Verse]
Ya’ hide behind this hip-hop genre
Thinking that this microphone’s gon’ make you a mobster
So you better wear your Popper Stopper
‘Cause I got them things that’ll tell you block ‘em, block ‘em

[Verse]
Some niggas gon’ be real, some gon’ be fake
Some carry knives, some 38
Some carry chrome revolvers
Just in case we gotta solve a problem

[Verse]
Some niggas gossip ‘n’ snitch, some whine ‘n’ bitch
Some smack they lips, probably from suckin’ dick
But bitch made niggas that got bitch-ways
Wonderin’ from which way my switchblade’s comin’

[Verse]
These niggas today wanna smile in your face
Plottin’ to take your life ‘cause they wanna take your place
But no matter what shape, color or size
I got bullets that fly fast into all you guys

[Verse]
So you should stop lookin’ at me cross-eyed
Before I reach by my thigh and pull out a surprise
Pull up on the side of your ride, you and your guy
Drive through Popeyes, and pop-pop, you’re bye-bye

[Chorus]
You ain’t real
You don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game
You ain’t real
Yo, nigga, you don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills, uh
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah

[Verse]
Fuck you up, that’s what I do
I’m ill enough to kill a nigga without spilling the gun residue
Fat genitals, (?) you, snatch ya’ general, hospital ‘em
Bullets start riddling through

[Verse]
Funeral drywall, hit him in the middle of his temple
Psyclops a nigga for tryna eyeball
I got a pistol big enough to send your body
On the other side of the lobby fast as Nightcrawler

[Verse]
I’ll ignite and strike harder
Stinging them all like alcohol in the hands of a tight barber
D12 and Slaughter, Yelawolf and Marshall
That lyrical bubonic plague to any artist

[Verse]
We shady, gangrene ‘n’ all of imposters
Get yo’ ass shot like strippers, metamorphosis a nigga
Put ‘em in coffins ‘til he meet the lord with a heart
Wonderin’ why the pearly gates won’t
Open

[Chorus]
You ain’t real
You don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game
You ain’t real
Yo, nigga, you don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills, uh
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah

[Verse]
(?) was comin’ out the woodworks, spit a good verse
But they’on’ know how the hood works, catch ‘em
In the streets
They be shook worse than a hooker in a hood church
You say, why, Crooked I, before rappin’ I was a crook first

[Verse]
Got a nice chain, I might be clockin’ your neck
Then I hit a sweet lick, that’s a flavor or a flavor
Got beef, I got two 9’s under my shirt
Like a bitch pregnant with twins around a day before a labor

[Verse]
And if that same bitch treat a player like a neighbor
Come give me some sugar, I’ma give her some nuts
That’s a favor for a favor, I’m harder than before
Nigga, I’ll Sun Tzu ‘em, smart as the Art of War

[Verse]
Gigantic guns, them the ones my heart adore
The way I describe my hammer, y’all prolly just thought of Thor
Anybody can get it, talk about killin’ niggas you wit’ it
Talk about killin’ cops and it’s crickets (pussy)

[Chorus]
Ay, you ain’t real
You don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game
You ain’t real
Yo, nigga, you don’t kill
You ain’t got them dollar bills, uh
You’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip-hop game, yeah