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lirik lagu you ain’t real – swifty mcvay

[intro)
yeah
(?)

[verse]
i done took a n*gga’s life and i’m not proud of it
i’ll take yours if you’re f*cking 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 n*ggas 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 n*ggas gossip ‘n’ snitch, some whine ‘n’ b*tch
some smack they lips, probably from suckin’ d*ck
but b*tch made n*ggas that got b*tch*ways
wonderin’ from which way my switchblade’s comin’
[verse]
these n*ggas 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

[verse]
f*ck you up, that’s what i do
i’m ill enough to k!ll a n*gga without spilling the gun residue
fat genitals, (?) you, sn*tch ya’ general, hospital ‘em
bullets start riddling through
[verse]
funeral drywall, hit him in the middle of his temple
psyclops a n*gga 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 n*gga
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 k!ll
you ain’t got them dollar bills
you’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip*hop game
you ain’t real
yo, n*gga, you don’t k!ll
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 l!ck, that’s a flavor or a flavor
got beef, i got two 9’s under my shirt
like a b*tch pregnant with twins around a day before a labor

[verse]
and if that same b*tch 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
n*gga, 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 k!llin’ n*ggas you wit’ it
talk about k!llin’ cops and it’s crickets (p*ssy)

[chorus]
ay, you ain’t real
you don’t k!ll
you ain’t got them dollar bills
you’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip*hop game
you ain’t real
yo, n*gga, you don’t k!ll
you ain’t got them dollar bills, uh
you’re just a lame tryna maintain in this hip*hop game, yeah

- swifty mcvay

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