[Intro: Q-Tip]
Phony rappers who do not write
Phony rappers who do not excite
Phony rappers, check it out, aight
[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Yo, I was ridin' the train
And this Puerto Rican kid said simple and plain: "Let's battle"
It kinda took me by surprise
'Cause the brother was movin' wit' his eyes on the prize
I said "Screw it, I ain't got nuttin to lose, but um
But I got to do this shit real quick, so um
Hurry up, kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine
And I'll be out 'cause I gotta see this hun", he said "OK"
"Yo, check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah"
That's what he said
Then I came back and just FUCKED up his head
'Cause yo, he thought an MC who was seen on TV
Couldn't hold his shit down in New York City
Aiyo, I showed his ass then I went off on my task
To bless her ass Uptown, real MC's will hold it down
Yeah, yeah, sonny, to the beat like that
You wanna bring it to me? Where you at?
[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
Yes, dread, I had a similar situation
Where this kid tried to tell me I didn't deserve my occupation
He said I wasn't shit, that I was soon to fall
I looked him up and down, grabbed my crotch and said balls
Of course he tried to bring it on the battlin' tip
And you know me, you know I had to come out my shit
Tryin' to lounge at the mall, me, Skeff and Mr. Walt
And finally I banged his ass with the verbal assault
He said a rhyme about his .45 and his nickel bags of weed
That's when I proceeded to give him what he needed
Talkin' 'bout "I need a Phillie right before I get loose", poor excuse
Money, please, I get loose off of orange juice
Preferably Minute Maid
'Cause that's exactly what it takes to write a rhyme, huh
So screw your nickels and your dimes
Because an MC like me be on TV
Don't mean I can't hold my shit down in NYC
Phony rappers who do not write
Phony rappers who do not excite
Phony rappers, check it out, aight
[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Yo, I was ridin' the train
And this Puerto Rican kid said simple and plain: "Let's battle"
It kinda took me by surprise
'Cause the brother was movin' wit' his eyes on the prize
I said "Screw it, I ain't got nuttin to lose, but um
But I got to do this shit real quick, so um
Hurry up, kid, bust your joints and then I'll bust mine
And I'll be out 'cause I gotta see this hun", he said "OK"
"Yo, check it, check it out, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah"
That's what he said
Then I came back and just FUCKED up his head
'Cause yo, he thought an MC who was seen on TV
Couldn't hold his shit down in New York City
Aiyo, I showed his ass then I went off on my task
To bless her ass Uptown, real MC's will hold it down
Yeah, yeah, sonny, to the beat like that
You wanna bring it to me? Where you at?
[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
Yes, dread, I had a similar situation
Where this kid tried to tell me I didn't deserve my occupation
He said I wasn't shit, that I was soon to fall
I looked him up and down, grabbed my crotch and said balls
Of course he tried to bring it on the battlin' tip
And you know me, you know I had to come out my shit
Tryin' to lounge at the mall, me, Skeff and Mr. Walt
And finally I banged his ass with the verbal assault
He said a rhyme about his .45 and his nickel bags of weed
That's when I proceeded to give him what he needed
Talkin' 'bout "I need a Phillie right before I get loose", poor excuse
Money, please, I get loose off of orange juice
Preferably Minute Maid
'Cause that's exactly what it takes to write a rhyme, huh
So screw your nickels and your dimes
Because an MC like me be on TV
Don't mean I can't hold my shit down in NYC
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