[Verse 1: Dizze Rascal]
|
Liar liar, pants on fire, you're not gangsta, you're not street
|
You just make yourself sound gangsta when you're rapping on the beat
|
You ain't got yourself in no life-threatening situations yet
|
You're no dealer, you're not balling, you just get yourself in debt
|
You're a fan of hip hop, wanking when you hear them rappers talk
|
Love to sit and listen but we know that you don't walk the walk
|
What's with all the fake aggression, I can see that it's not true
|
I know killers, I know gangsters, and they never heard of you
|
You ain't robbed nobody, shanked nobody, you ain't bust no gun
|
You ain't seen no ghetto action, who do you think you fooling, son?
|
You should pull your trousers up, you know it ain't your type of look
|
You're no playa, you're no pimp, I think that you should read a book
|
And seckle, find yourself a pretty girl and settle
|
You know that if it's on that you ain't drawing for no metal
|
I know them rap songs got you thinking you're some kind of g
|
Well if that's the case, then que sara and what will be will be
|
|
[Hook:]
|
Where's the G's? Where's the stars?
|
Where's the whips? Where's the cars?
|
Where's that cribs? And where's the yards?
|
Cause all I see is hype
|
Where's the dough? Where's the cash?
|
Where's the hoes? Where's the gash?
|
Where's the blicks? And where's the mash?
|
Cause all I see is hype
|
Too many moots on the TV
|
How many real crooks on the TV?
|
All I hear is dead hooks on the TV
|
Being real these days ain't easy
|
Too many moots on the TV
|
How many real crooks on the TV?
|
All I see is bare poop on the TV
|
Being real these days ain't easy
|
|
[Verse 2: Bun B]
|
Well it's big Bun B and I'm back again, talking that shit on the track again
|
Too many motherfuckers be lying about selling, buying and trafficking
|
I'm like really though what's happening, you boys talk about that crack again?
|
Cause we don't believe you, need more people, y'all might as well just pack it in
|
Show me the paper you're stacking in, show me the blocks you got on hold
|
Show me your workers, show me your shooters, lemme see the neighborhood you control
|
Lemme see if you a boss, and if motherfuckers is scared of you
|
And if somebody trying to take your shit, let me see what you prepared to do
|
Are you ready to go to war? Are you ready to shoot to kill?
|
Are you really gon' man-up or bitch-up? Just tell the truth for real
|
Are you ready to take a life, walk up to 'em and squeeze the trigger
|
I don't think so cause you ain't built like that, so just be easy, nigga
|
Cause you know you ain't 'bout no drama and you know that you really don't want it
|
So stay the fuck out of the way when them trill-ass niggas is on it
|
Dizzee Ras and UGK, you know we stay connected
|
Trill recognize trill, so just respect it and check it
|
And tell me
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
[Verse 3: Pimp C]
|
Where the Benz and where the hoes?
|
Candy niggas with candy clothes
|
Where the cocaine? Where the o's?
|
Where the SoundScan, where the shows?
|
You's a pimp, bitch, where the track?
|
Where the diamonds and where the Lac
|
You say that you that you in hot pursuit
|
But I ain't never seen you with a prostitute
|
I got everything I say
|
Don't believe me, ask Lil' J
|
On the West ask Ice-T
|
Fuck good but my dick ain't free
|
So hood I used to whip the d
|
Patron and wood when I'm in the B
|
Sweet Jones, Tony Snow, Percy Mack, Pimp C
|
Bitch, I got a bunch of names
|
Getting head in the H.O.V. lane
|
Getting red, I let my nuts hang
|
Wear a lot of red but it ain't no gang
|
Chased by the feds but it ain't no thang
|
I guess they think I still sell cocaine
|
92 carrots in my chain
|
Jumping out a red-candy thing
|
Never snitch, never tell, get caught up, go back to jail
|
Before I tell them hoes shit, fuck the law, they can eat my dick
|
The main niggas that pop the trunk
|
Go to the pen and get with them punks
|
Then come home trying to act tough
|
When they was up there getting fucked in the butt
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
-----------------
|
Where's Da G's
|
| Dizzee Rascal |
