Well last Friday at the Plaza these couple guys were talkin shit callin me a fake rapper and shit, so it inspired me to write this song. Props to Auditory for the beat.
ILLigitt
I'm a 19 year-old aspiring musician currently residing in Leavenworth, KS. I've been rapping since I was 13. I sucked at it until I was 14 and I've been good at it since I was 15. I've fucking ruled at it since I was 16 and I started getting better when I was 17. I became so amazing that I required a human sacrifice when I turned 18. I turned 19 and still have not received what is now my annual sacrifice, so now I refuse to keep making music until someone appeases me. My penis is several minutes long, and I am un-full of shit like you wouldn't believe.
www.caucasianprophet.com
Story behind the song
Last Friday at the Plaza me and my boy were walkin around and this group of black guys started callin me a fake rapper and a fake Slim Shady and shit. So yeah, it inspired this song.
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
You listen to rappers who say they click and blaze guns//
Now all the sudden ILLigitt's the fake one//
You say you helpin me out, I truly don't thank ya//
I got no love for wack studio gangstas//
Nothin worse than a man, stupid and angry//
Hurt you worse than a motherfucker losin a family//
You cannot tell me, half the rappers who talk about it//
Have ever seen a gun, let alone bleed from one//
You need to run, from the mic when I spit//
Cuz it's nothin but the truth, what I write with a pen//
Or pencil, always shit beneficial//
This game is watered down and I'm sent to ripple//
If it been so simple, as to walk in and out//
There'd be no question what the talk is about//
Assault when I shout on the track and spit//
Sickness at the game 'til I damage it//
[Hook]2x
To be a thug in 2003 is like//
Seein most people bluff who can't spit on the mic//
What it's like to be a thug in 2003?//
It's like an essential for every rappin emcee//
[Verse 2]
Now I know I'm not street, but I don't pretend to be//
I'm chillin Outback but these blokes is testin me//
So what's left of me, is an animal caged//
Trappin the rage and facin innacurate placements//
Stabbin the game with jagged edge razors//
And then I'm havin to face all these blasphemous statements//
Sayin I can't rap and I'm never gon' make it//
I'm etchin my face in the game's memory banks when//
I'm sketchin the phrases made by letters on pages//
And I be blessin the stages on several occasions//
Blazin em, you try to say you blaze a gun//
To look gangsta, but it's not a game, it ain't for fun//
Y'all are sickenin me, I know I'm rippin the beats//
But you try to tell me I'm doin it illegitimately//
Color over talent, how that happened is a blur//
Cuz I won't be accepted 'til I'm Jackson in reverse//
Hook 2x
[Verse 3]
Cats is actin ignorant with hypocritical styles//
Haterade is on they chin and it's tricklin down//
I rap about shit that matters, you dissin me now?//
Half you motherfuckers only pack a clip to be down//
These, cats need to learn when to stick to they boundaries//
It seem like you thinkin every second about me//
Several doubt me but I'm dissin 'em loudly//
You talk twice as hard but have half the talent//
To blast past the challenge at rappin half adequate//
After this rap I spit you gon' be able to comprehend//
Not even half of it, shit you think I'm phony?//
I'm teachin you how to think, like I'm a aesop story//
Stop trippin, I don't try to be gangsta//
Won't rhyme any faster, no, I'm not a actor//
Stop trippin, I don't try to be gangsta//
Won't rhyme any faster, no, I'm not a actor//
Hook 2x
