You Ain't Real Lyrics - Ultramagnetic Mc's

[Unverified] 

Brothers wanna know, what's goin' on about the 4-1-1 

On the group, and so on and so forth 

So what you talk for, you know what I came for 

A motherfuckin' ground war 

Talkin' that same old style 

Same old song, same old thang 

Sweatin' yourself, you're gettin' busy yo 

Huh, but you still can't hang 

I'd rather rip, and still the flip trip 

On the mic grip and hit, and then trip 

Into I never ever miss yo 

You still ain't shit 

Thinkin' you're all that, you've got 

The rep and props but you still can't rap 

Wanna talk about a wannabe, never gonna be 

Ever gonna be, who's gonna see 

Come near here, come here child yeah 

I got flavor, style, compare 

[Unverified] 

Yo, you can't compete 

You wanna steal my voice, steal our sound 

Steal my beats, you wanna fuck around 

I don't play son, shorts do I take none 

You need help better call 9-1-1 

Or the Beatles, or Susannah 

Drink you up like a cup of Tropicana juice 

I got more, flowin' like a river 

Yeah, style's what I give ya 

Shakin' 'em, keep fakin' 'em, make make makin' 'em 

Takin' 'em, bakin' 'em, no mistaken 'em 

Dope, hyper, raw def MC 

Wanna talk about a man, yo who is he or she 

You got nerve to even talk that 

What about that, yeah, what's up with that rumor talkin' 

We can't make a hit 

We've been makin' hits while you've been suckin' dicks 

Around the town, lookin' for a hardcore deal 

Yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz,yeah,you ain't real 

Niggaz, you ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, who are you? You ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you you ain't real 

Niggaz, man 

Niggaz, get out my face 

Yeah, motherfuckers wanna blast 

I keep rhymes in store for they ass 

They ain't got the style to kick no shit 

I bust rhymes and heat and just blow shit out 

Let me ask one question 

You think I fell off? Well come test then 

You ain't the man to stop the Big X 

Fuck around become [unverified] next 

Yes, shit is gettin' wild 

Very wild, slick and much wild 

But watch when I come with the Rhythm X shit 

Then after that, motherfuckers wanna quit 

Whether or not, you like it or not, you're wack it's true 

Your whole crew sound doo doo 

I keep tissue to wipe the first face 

I'm like a team that stays in first place 

Winnin', like the motherfuckin' Giants 

You got rhymes to kick? Then drop science 

Math, English, fuck it I said it 

Yo Ced, come and grab the mic 

Yo let's begin with a phrase that's quite hype 

I'll control with soul Gee get right 

Into the mix like a DJ spinnin' on 

The crowd is buggin, rememberin', "Bring it On" 

The phrase that stand to all that wanna try 

To step to the Gee get roast and I wonder why 

Hmm, like Arsenio Hall said, I think 

You rhyme like butter you're soft and you're quite stink 

Tryin' to perpetrate, sayin' you're hard right 

You hit money grip you're fake like a bad night-mare 

with Freddie, you know you're not ready 

You sound immature, like a amateur petty 

Yeah 

(You ain't ready) 

Tto step on the stage, get hit with the rhyme jab 

Just like the Flintstones, I'll break like bam bam 

Bam bam bam bam bam 

I'm smoke ya 

You slept on the Gee, better yet, true Ultra 

But now we're back and, MC's we're slappin' 

We're givin' no slack and, because you're wack 

And yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you ain't real 

Niggaz, who are you? You ain't real 

Niggaz, yeah, you you ain't real 

Niggaz, man get out my face