For every nigga wearin his 36" chains and who has cornrows livin up to the black stereotype, sorry that I'm not black like you.
I am the shit
If a bunch of your friends decide to start a "label" over the internet, it is not a real record label. Do not title it [Blah] Productions when you have no official way of producing shit. So quit e-mailing me asking for my demo (I don't have one anyway), because all you want is my shit on a CD cuz you have no CD Burner. :)
Lyrics
“Black Like You”
M. Johnson
I’m settin standards for blacks over the globe
I’m not fake thug cuz no one told me to pose
I do not have a chain across my neck
I’m too busy spreading my name across the net
Ya’ll thought I was jokin when I said I was veteran
Name one Camarillo rapper who I ain’t better than
I’m not a typical nigga who grows a fro
So get off my dick, I already told yo no
And I’m sick you fools always giving me shit
I got questions for ya’ll, so, riddle me this
I’m not black cuz I speak correct grammar?
And I’m not black cuz I eat with the right manners?
Black is a color that defines the Negroes
That means all of us niggas are equal people
When I got tired and too soft to fight
I started to rap and I was brought to life
[Chorus x2]
Ya’ll can cripwalk and shit-talk all ya please
But I spit bars and live large in the streets
I’m a rapper, but I don’t act like you
Cuz I’m black like me, not black like you
My life ain’t as simple as you’d think it’d be
Forget everything that you think of me
Pay attention to my life and you might learn somethin
And if you think you know me, you know nothin
All this hate and rage is capped by disgust
And when I think of fake thugs, I just have to cuss
Ya’ll the type of faggots who talk yaself into caskets
Ya’ll are everywhere reproducing by the masses
And ya’ll are busy living by the stereotype
If you wanna be like Pac, it will burry ya life
In order to be thug, you gotta start a crime
Too bad ya’ll motherfuckers couldn’t harm a fly
You think I’m ya friend, I don’t give a fuck about you
I don’t need you, shit, I’ll be tough without you
A lot of doubters, it’s been hard to please those
So changed into illuziun, my alter-ego
[Chorus]
I don’t gotta sell shit to say what’s real hip hop
Lots of niggas have been number one, yo, look at Kriss Kross
What gives you the right to ever lift a mic?
You only talk about that fine bitch you hit last night
Is it really hard to develop a concept?
I guess so cuz ya’ll rappers don’t think beyond sex
Real hip hop heads haven’t heard ya hits
All the love you get is from suburban kids
That doesn’t bother you till you decline in the charts
Why’d you waist your time from the start?
Ya’ll are just to wack, that’s the crime you commit
Ya’ll should get shot every time that you spit
Who the fuck are you, talking about the 5-0
Step in the club, yo ass dead on arrival
I’ve made it this far, and I can make it even further
Ain’t no talkin bout my ice or +It’s Murder!+
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