The Gimmicks - Real Live

I’m usin' mics like bangers, victims get hit

Verbal homicide, razor blades spit

It’s mad kids trapped up in the game, ain’t nothing pretty

We all on a quest to have the tightest jam in the city

Or the fattest sound for the nine-pound

Shoot a 100 grand, I’m rollin headcracks on the ground

My mind is under siege from Chunky Black

I made my white-out fat with about three fourths of a 20 sack

Now I gots to blow the spot one time and in due time

You’ll find the illustration of true crime

Too many niggas fakin' moves today

Too many brothers gettin' blown away

But I be makin' licks anyway, everyday

And still hold a toast just in case of foul play

You always had somethin to say

Man, I know you wasn’t shit from the very first day

I ain’t a rookie, son, I’m like a decorated soldier

I earned mad stripes, slugs hit you like a boulder

The K is all-pro with the MP-60

And I’ma stimulate like a monster hit a blow, so

Now it’s time to pay some dues

You got to show some skill before you talk about a Uz or a Tec

And I lost mad respect

And if the wack shit don’t stop

I’m shuttin down shop

You took a turn for the worse, you’re like a curse

You never come clean in your verse

You got players on the street gettin down for real

Gettin down for coke, gettin down with steel

You ain’t a thoroughbred cuz you ain’t never did no caper

What’s this talk about you rich when you’re workin with short paper?

You’re like a disease

And, ahh, get the fuck from out of here before I squeeze