[Hook]
Keep tryna keep it real, I'm keepin' it raw
While half of y'all still be keepin' it flaw
And all the real heads scream, "FUCK HIP-HOP!"
Until this mediocre bullshit stops
Drug fiends, let me show you the route
Who's that motherfucker still keepin' the dope in the house?
It's Motamouth (Who?!)
It's Motamouth, baby
It's Motamouth
[Verse 1]
Whenever I write, I put myself out of place from other cats
So it don't sound like another brother's rap
I smother tracks with raw shit, niggas aren't able to bite
What I bring to the table is height
Then I easily supersede, niggas need what I got
Reason I'm hot, there's no other raw seeds in the pot
While most motherfuckers follow the guidelines of Hip-Hop 101
Jakki Da Motamouth decides to have fun
Not following rules, swallowing crews
Son, I toss cats off the stage often, I slay their soft raps
To all you fake dictionary emcees, get off that
Half of y'all don't understand your own rhymes, and soft batch
They straight at open mics, but put them out on the street
Take away their dope beat, let 'em rhyme, and they weak
And the mic can be a decieving device
Muffle your rhymes, so they ain't clear and concise
Have niggas thinking you nice
Let's battle, I'll crack on all your gear and all your wack raps
You can't be saved by your babbling, or your backpack
Doing it "for the love" is great, but you fake
And putting your shit out is a mistake nobody wants to make
[Hook]
Keep tryna keep it real, I'm keepin' it raw
While half of y'all still be keepin' it flaw
And all the real heads scream, "FUCK HIP-HOP!"
Until this mediocre bullshit stops
Drug fiends, let me show you the route
Who's that motherfucker still keepin' the dope in the house?
It's Motamouth (Who?!)
It's Motamouth, baby
It's Motamouth
[Verse 2]
Hate when I go to open mics and I see everybody clapping
For some clown they don't understand, yet everybody acting
Like he dope, because they believe "it's Hip-Hop"
Y'all convincing me that most of y'all are brainwashed
Stuck in in old Hip-Hop history
Some cats are crap without their tracks, 'cause they weak
I wish a nigga would say he listen to me for the beats
Some got the nerve to say they dope when they spit
When even they family got a tape and they won't open the shit
I got a big mouth and I ain't scared to use it
One person's key style allows everyone to abuse it
So what the fuck is your definition of "underground"?
Depressing beats and bleak cats who love the sound?!
Well I ain't part of that, I'm tired of rapper's garbage
I'm the part of the underground who only feels the raw shit
And I could take a nigga out regardless
You can bring your hardest artists, and I'll make 'em heartless
Some say they "lyrically this," or "lyrically that"
Throwing "lyrical" in every rap and they lyrically wack
And many cats rhyme over tracks nobody fiends for
Don't fuck around with me, if you can only fuck with keyboards!
Just 'cause lazy niggas use recognizable material
Don't mean that dope samples are not original
'Cause a producer with skill could lace tracks
And keyboard beats aren't that original – lets face facts
That shit was over-used in the G-Funk era
Don't give me that excuse, real emcees want better
Ya'll rhyme over enough shit – most get away with murder
Like kids who think they words rhyme 'cause of the suffix
Must bitch niggas be fragile? In fact
You brag 'bout who you battled, but who you battled was crap
What you angry for? And acting all tense?
If you innocent, be cool – only the guilty's catching offense
[Hook]
Keep tryna keep it real, I'm keepin' it raw
While half of y'all still be keepin' it flaw
And all the real heads scream, "FUCK HIP-HOP!"
Until this mediocre bullshit stops
Drug fiends, let me show you the route
Who's that motherfucker still keepin' the dope in the house?
It's Motamouth (Who?!)
It's Motamouth, baby
It's Motamouth
[Outro: Scratches]
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