DJ Unknown & DJ Mekalek ft. Punchline, Mike Zoot, and Al-Shid - “Real Hip Hop”
[Emcee(s): Punchline, Mike Zoot, and Al-Shid]
[Producer(s) of Instrumental 1: DJ Premier (Original Instrumental from Das EFX - “Real Hip-Hop (Premier's LP Version)”)]
[Producer(s) of Instrumental 2: Pete Rock (Original Instrumental from Das EFX - “Real Hip-Hop (Pete Rock Remix)”)]
[DJ Mix: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
[Scratches: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
[Intro: Punchline]
(Yeah) Yeah (Like what?), yo (Uh). (Punchline) You are now tuned in (To who?) to Punchline (Yeah. Punch, AKA Chris Sabian) I’ll blow minds and spit rhymes, hit dimes. Yeah (Big up my man DJ Mek). It’s like this (Wordsworth, holler). Check it (Yeah), yo, uh
[Verse 1: Punchline]
When I spit, the world stops. You all watch
I’ma still be on top when you all drop. It’s on
Lock—no rapper in the game could stop me. I got a
Twenty-inch dick—that’s why my attitude cocky
You’re not me, so do you. I’ll blaze crews
I’ll destroy the nobodies and the who’s whos
I’ll make moves, and, like Jesús, you all praise me
I’ll pregnate your girl, but she’s saying it’s your baby
It’s crazy. That night, your chick was feeling me. Don’t be
Surprised if your child got great rhyming ability
No one’s as ill as me—don’t forget it
My lyrics’ll change the world like September 11th
‘Til the death, I’ll rep it, and don’t none of y’all want it
In battles, I got y’all calling for reinforcements
I get cash endorsements for sixteen-bar verses
You’re all worthless. Apply pressure, you get nervous
I’m cold-hearted—when I spit, it gets frigid
I’ll mail you a battery with anthrax in it
Either the envelope or the rhyme’ll kill you
When I’m done, you’ll be sipping on herbs to heal you
No one else can pimp it the way I do. I’ll get
Brains from chicks with low IQs
Paid my dues and then some. Enter my zone
Welcome to the world of Punch and Unknown
Where you get hot joints and the rhymes are tight
And I just made these motherfuckers up last night
My thugs ride to it, my backpackers bop to it
No one else could do it like I do it
Yeah, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
“Now tell me, won't this fucking verse right here” - Sample from Starang Wonduh on O.G.C. - "No Fear"
“Turn a wack rapper’s day into his worst nightmare” - Sample from Starang Wonduh on O.G.C. - "No Fear"
“Now tell me, won't this fucking verse right here” - Sample from Starang Wonduh on O.G.C. - "No Fear"
“Turn a wack rapper’s day into his worst nightmare” - Sample from Starang Wonduh on O.G.C. - "No Fear"
[Verse 2: Mike Zoot]
Big mouths get asses and shit they can’t get out of
Dead with your chick and your hand in the shower like
“Who done it?” Rhyme thirsty on an empty stomach
Hurl my insides outside—smell like somebody died here
A long time overdue, so now we do it over
Hardly ever slow, but chips on shoulders of soldier
Pipes filled with pressure soon bust, blow out the solar
High life, we’ll live a lil’ lower with pistola. We’ll
Travel. Rapper fool, feel the pavement
With my chick to the place, need kicks, to pay the cable
And light bill. Mix speed, trees, and Nyquil
Woke up Tuesday morning, thinking it’s Friday night still
Same spot, don’t remember nothing how I
Got here, who this bitch on my cock. She looking aight still
Like a two-dollar bill, yes, quite real
Almost to a fault, bring this shit to a halt
Got a style—I don’t know what it’s called. Classic time
Capsule out the vault before the ball is malt
Before Suge got locked up or Bow Wow flowed
The second coming of I don’t know what, but it’s something
[Verse 3: Mike Zoot]
Yo, yo, we got
Bitches fighting over us, writing letters on some
“Yes, no, maybe.” Check a box, but they won’t go with us
The whole crew. “Who you? He ain’t grow up with us”
Password, check, set, sign. Please show it up
(Alright, that’s that son and brother) Alright, that’s son and brother
Nigga, I’m damn near your father—say “hello” to your mother
I was trying to feed the huge stem like Sally Struthers, so for
Your nine ninety-nine, my whole track’ll stay alive another
Month. Six top, six bottom fronts all
Crooked. No-lunch hungry and I look it
Dressed bummy—smell it. I’m ‘bout money—you could
Taste it and hear how wasted the kid is
[?] your ribbons. Yo, brethren, where the shit is?
Niggas, get your chicken up. Bitches, scrub your fishes
Reroll spliffs, open fix, and hit this
Listen first, love, memorize, and kick this
[Hook: Samples with Scratches by DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
“I'm not the one, not the two, not the three” - Sample from [?] - “[?]”
“And fucking with my time not for you, not for me” - Sample from [?] - “[?]”
[Verse 4: Al-Shid]
Niggas is quick to start, want to spit their darts
One verse, dumb, thirsty, get ripped apart
Want to rift? I don’t even need a fifth to spark. I’ll have
You niggas like Pun, taking shit to heart
If you’re smart, you’ll be the fuck off of the set
‘Cause you little soldiers is way too soft for the vets
I’ll send my young guns. They’re leather, let them numb slug fly
We squeeze, speak at y’all knees like you some dumb guy, so
In a lump sum, nigga, tell one lung “bye”
Along with your kidneys and spleen. My niggas is mean
Can’t be seen in the booth. Nigga, Shid’s the truth
Flawless on foul lines like Abdul-Rauf
You lose a tooth for bar-biting, lose a tooth
Then droop when we start fighting. Once my squad striking
All you do is get deaths and complain. If I
Approach, all you’re getting off your chest is your chain, nigga
[Outro: Al-Shid]
(It’s like that) It’s like that (Peace). Yeah, nigga. That DJ Mek shit (Unknown, what’s up, baby? Yeah. Still holding it down)
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