[Intro:]
MC's be fakin' so now they get taken
[Chorus:]
Fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard,
I hate fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard.
[Verse 1:]
MC's I lay out like stiffs in the morgue,
Praise the lord, you're in awe when I'm grippin' my mic cord,
Rhymes I rip with swift execution,
One verse could coerce your girl to prostitution.
The Guru is now the brother that you're fearin',
Beware when I'm makin' hits with Premier and
Rollin' to a spot near you, lyrics tear through,
Chrome to your dome, you better watch your rear view.
Niggas been held back too long, we're comin' up,
In the streets we roll alone so watch me runnin' up,
I'm summin' up a mad posse of warriors,
Night crusaders able to break down barriers,
And bringin' faces of death, puttin' MC's to rest
Until there's no fake chumps left.
Run, step, yeah, bounce, nigga, bounce,
My rhyme's a cargo when yours is just a quarter ounce.
[Chorus:]
Fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard,
I hate fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard.
[Verse 2:]
Gang Starr, boy, and that's beyond your comprehension,
Mad brothers in every city, you can feel the tension,
To stop the killin', wack MC's must die.
Who am I? I'm the substance that'll make your third eye cry.
Too potent, too high in intelligence quotient,
When I unleash my speech, I'll have you punk rappers open,
I won't expose your names and your identities,
You know you're phoney, get the fuck from in front of me.
Hardcore fans are fed up from your folklore,
Lines strip you raw and infect you like cold sores,
And I hope you're not the one that I'm after,
Since the days of Adidas I've been a true master.
[Chorus:]
Fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard,
I hate fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard.
[Verse 3:]
I've been around, punk, but, yo, I still feel young,
A few of my crew members like to pack guns,
I'm high strung but don't mistake me when I smile,
I murder an entire rap chart with my freestyle.
After the killin' just like Casper, I'm ghost,
Fakes thought I was friendly, at their wakes I was host,
Toast without a gun, you'd be done,
Throw up your hands, bitch, and now you know you stand to lose one.
Choose one metaphor and then choose another,
Wax that ass like a bully, have you callin' your big brother,
Although I'm five foot eight they call me sergeant,
Got more hoes on my dick than you can fit in the garden.
At Madison Square I shot a fair one,
So many niggas knew me that the kid wouldn't dare run,
MC's pay cash to ensure their safety,
They know they can't take me; the G-A-N-G, you crazy?
I be on them like a message from God,
Knowledge of self while fake MC's play hard.
[Chorus:]
Fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard,
I hate fake MC's, they always act hard,
But won't walk the street without they bodyguard.
[Outro:]
Fake MC's they always act hard,
I'm not a sucker so I don't need a bodyguard.
Fake MC's they always act hard,
I'm not a sucker so I don't need a bodyguard.