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Wannabes
by
People Under the Stairs
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Do you know your identity? How do you know your identity? (x3) Are you... you wannabe? (x4) A wise man will only be useful as a man He will not submit to be clay or stop a hole to keep the wind away A hundred percent me, capital B-Boy, the child is the father of the man Taking pictures with my family, the b-boy stance in '84 Grew up cross-threading hip-hop and Peruvian folklore Therefore, my indifference to pop stems from the fact The plan to make a difference in hip-hop as an art, not as income No I didn't come into this sh*t in '93 like a wannabе Repressed buyеr, high addresses to the liar That's claiming he did this and that, cat used to diss rap back in '86 Now he wanna mix, make beats, et cetera It's better to watch and try and prove, it down and read thoughts Can tell what wannabes are, just everything they're not Noun, pronoun, now verb, the clown's hard to prove Reserved, no action got served, my faction that's a fraction Of my nation, in fact, when I face them, the ice chips I shadow-battle to free give, it's natural to me Never respect blatant wannabes that follow a model Like kid could mention us to make MC like Michael McDonald Now grab the bottle, drink away the fact that you'll always be wack I got no time for fakin' jacks, 'cause mother got fake jacks are just the… Are you... you wannabe? (x2) Check it out, y'all… yo… My sh*t's 1-5-8-0 proof, the realness bringing the truth to light Ready to fight for my peeps, man, f**k your color lines Fool, let's take it to the street, radio stations giving a f**k About you, me, or anybody else that ain't posted on TV Monday nights, you be in the house getting dumb While my b*t*hes on the street, making civilians run Panicked, couldn't stand the way we flipped the script I know you like the way I got my johnson on your lip You nickel-d**k biter, exciter of the next Don't wanna come original, just known as a wack individual Stay in your cipher, dude, I'll stay inside mine It ain't enough time for getting 'bout it in rhymes If you doubted it, I'm 'bout it on the dee-lo, chump I only let my kids know, never put it in the flow That's where y'all f**ked up, putting that sh*t on the waves Representing Unity, get the sh*t out my way Yo, who in the motherf**k handed you the mic You came to the club with intentions of rocking it all night But we scheduled other plans, I'm sorry my man Just can't take it when n***as like yourself get on the mic and fake it Been having too long like the (?) first song When they asked you to rap, you shoulda told 'em you're wrong Everybody wants to be somebody else A wannabe who's running from the reality of theirself The national health, I guess, this is symptomatic Effect of industry, capitalism, and democratic illusions Take a state like Cali, white kids listen to Death Row And do drive-bys in Simi Valley Bump the n***as sh*t, I guess, it used to be on trial Went from commentary to a way to glorify the industry Be saying "n***a" cool, and making believe That you love the poverty and don't ever want to leave You wannabe honestly, honestly, the country wants it this way You wannabe intelligent, now that would cause some dismay For he wannabe (?), a player's called a player She wannabe loved, the famous wannabe the mayor The mayor's son bought a gun, he wannabe a gangsta Shanked him in the alley in the dumpster by the bank 'Cause a wannabe's an anomaly for nothing (damn!) I don't wannabe a b-boy because I am '98, y'all, People Under The Stairs Are you... you wannabe? (x2) Let's peep out these hoes, man… The real MCs… Now, look at you, fake lady… wannabe But never gonna be 'cause you ain't got the quality It ain't like I'm too good for you, more like you're too legit to quit Got a job slanging ass-to-mouth and the tits Not even for a fee, dumb b*t*h, you buggin' Every other minute, it's another n***a you hugging I'm buggin'? You need to check your resumé and get it right From the left, all you see is mean mugs all night 'Cause we ain't going for it, I see your gameplan, b*t*h You wanna be like her, instead your one big glitch I remember high school, you turned your homework in on time Now you f**king every dude to say their bus pass rhymes But I dropped mad dimes and exposed the fake At five o' clock, it's Ricki Lake then you off to the breaks To catch another, smoke a little herb, drink a little liquor You and your girls competing who can get their next quicker Wannabes, wannabes, they all in types Backpacks, baggy pants, "hey, man, you got a pipe?" Wannabes, wannabes, they all over the place You can spot 'em anywhere just by the look on their face Wannabes, wannabes, honestly, they're confused Thousand-dollar jumpsuits, snakeskin shoes Wannabes, wannabes, got no memories You weren't down back then, you're not down with me (repeat) [Thes One]… in '98… in '93… in '83… or in '77 You's a wanna-wannabe, a wannabe… you won't slam… you wannabe… you wannabe… you try and make jams… You won't slam… Wannabes… wannabes on their knees, lickin' crazy butt…
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