The Gimmicks Songtext
von Real Live

I see, the gimmicks, the whack lyrics (Repeat 8x)

I′m usin mics like bangers, victims get hit
Verbal homicide, razorblade spit
There's mad kids f′d up in the game, ain't nuttin pretty
We all on a quest to have the tightest jam in the city
Or the fattest sound for the nine pound
Shoot a hundred grand, I'm rollin eggcracks on the ground
My mind is under siege from chunky black
I made my white out fat with about three-fourths of a twenty sack

Now I gots to blow the spot one time
And in due time, you′ll find the illustration of true crime
Too many niggas fakin moves today

Too many brothers gettin blown away
But I be makin licks anyway everyday
And still hold a toast just in case of foul play
You always had somethin to say


Man I knew you wasn′t shit from the very first day

I ain't a rookie son, I′m like a decorated soldier
I earn mad stripes, slugs hit you like a boulder
The K is on chrome with the MP-6-0
And I'mma stimulate, like a monster hit a blow
So, now it′s time to pay some dues
You got to show some skill before you talk about a Uz'
Or a TEC, and I lost mad respect
And if the whack shit don′t stop, I'm shuttin down shop
You took a turn for the worse, you're like a curse

You never come clean in your verse
You got players on the street gettin down for real
Gettin down for coke, gettin down with steel
You ain′t a thoroughbred, cause you ain′t never did no caper
What's this talk about you rich when you workin with short paper?

You′re like a disease

And uhh, get the fuck from outta here before I squeeze