Fake Mcs Lyrics by Killah Priest

Fake Mcs Lyrics

    Intro:

    They got a problem now
    Knowi'msayin? too many corny rappers...
    Knowi'msayin? pretenders, knowi'msayin?

    Chorus: {2x}

    Theres too many phony mc's out there this year
    Ya best to beware
    I've burnt thousands already
    So get ready, lyrics are deadly

    Verse one:

    Niggaz keep frontin, ain't saying nuthin
    Killah priest remains calm, yet carry on
    Go ahead sing your song, claim you have the dons
    Rap superstars look cute with your cigars
    Bitches like that, where your mics at
    Bite me i bite back, plus i break backs
    Fuck you, you can sue me, from yours truly
    When niggaz sound booty
    Theres too many rappers in the east wanna be gangsters
    Too many gangsters in the west wanna be rappers
    Bunch of actors, i ought to smack ya, who's your master
    Sit down take a lesson, stop guessin
    For years i had, show your mad face
    And only showed bad taste
    Runnin around like your delirious
    Foamin from the mouth like you're furious
    I'd rather be serious, it keeps the audience curious
    These fantasies is nothin but your fantasies
    It might cause casualties
    Hollywood is not your neighborhood
    And if it is, give the mic to nappy woods
    And y'all can be all to be the wizard
    The wonderful wizard of oz, which are the a & r's
    And you a toto doing promos, along with the scarecrow
    You receive no dough

    Chorus: {2x}

    Verse two:

    I lay in the cut, like a rock star
    Looking at ya ca ca, cuz your music sound lop-side
    They sound tounge tied, butch of young guys, have 'em hung high
    Watched his lungs fry, from the sunshine
    Which is one rhyme generating from the mind
    Killah priest now late, i terminate
    Burn and break, and intimidate
    I come cold as when the winter break
    I put it into snakes, pretenders and fakes
    Shake, like the earthquakes, i judge wisely
    Between two pillars of poison ivy
    For those that despise me, attach 'em to the i.v.
    Your pops should've bust you on the couch
    Or sent you down the mouth
    Next time where a condom, when i step upon them
    I make emcees memories, whenever theres a symphony
    I look sinfully, been doing this for centuries
    I write shit sick as shakespeare tripping off of acid
    Rolling you like john the baptist with the rusty hatchet
    I preach the word of god before i murder y'all
    Swear i never heard of y'all

    Chorus: {2.5x}

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