Big Shug, Reks, Termanology - Not A Fan lyrics
[Big Shug, Reks, Termanology - Not A Fan lyrics]
Yeah man
Not a fan of all that garbage that they
Got out here man calling it music
But there is still a lot
Of good Hip-Hop though
Some good music out here too
So I’ma give yourself melodic
You know what I mean?
Big Shug with a couple of friends, feel me
Aha it’s what it is
Aha not a fan though of that garbage
Check it
Only spitting shit you got to believe
You’s about as hood as Drake and Justin Bieb
You’s about as real as Hulk and Superman
Come to Mattapan
My sons will break your hands
Spicy veggies, curry, Pakistan
Big Shug reign supreme, I’m still that man
You can run if you want to
I’ll blaze your car nice footwork
You can go dance with the stars
Or decay in the trunk of a old stolen car
You don’t mean nothing to me
I don’t care who you are
One call will still get you stomped in a ball
No fronting tough, I done seen it all before
If I got beef, trust me
I’ll bring it to your door
And chop your ass up like I’m zipping the raw
You’s a cop caller, I see in your eyes
A snitch dude, the kind to despise
So I’ma open my stance with a bat in my hand
‘Cause, I’ma send your head to
The back of the stands
To be bagged and tagged in the back of a van
And buried deeply in six feet of sand
Yap, yap, yap, I can’t understand
You’s a good rapper, but I’m not a fan
I’m not a fan of yours
I’m not hating, all I’m just saying
Is I’m not a fan of yours
I’m not a fan, man look that way
Fuck out of here with that shit termanology
Shug, what up uh
I ain’t a fan of that shit you write
The whips and ice you claim you got
How you play the blocks in Mercedes drives
When the truth is you’re
Going through illusions
Sitting in the house full of doubt
It’s confusing
You rap about ice, but you ain’t got a chain
Claiming you’re a gangster
But you ain’t got a name
Rappers nowadays perpetrate how
They percolate
Man I miss the Raekwon, Ghostface
Purple Tape
Man I miss the De La, Gang Starr, Tribe days
Now we got a bunch of
Fake guys coming sideways
Looking in the mirror like "really
I’m the realist killer that ever lived"
But they never lived how we lived
I was raised in the ghetto
Can you say the same though?
If you never lived like this
You shouldn’t say so
The music industry is fake as fuck
The music that they’re making sucks
Man I tell you I couldn’t make this up
Cheah i was talking with the legends
Hood politicking ‘bout the present
State of rap
And what you rep ain’t impressing
No, I’m not a fan
Was dope when you could throw a
Wack tape in garbage can
But now digital iTunes
Eliminate the physical, goddamn
Getting tagged with your BS
Radio payola got all the dumbed
Down rappers grabbing BDS
You see me stressed
You see the big homie Shug call Term and Reks
Told us aim for the necks
Cross dressing emo thugs, transgender sex
You can get the one between ring and index
Ding ding then flex off
The turnbuckle then suplex
De La Soul, too complex
And with your nonsense bullshit content
If I don’t like it, I don’t like it
That’s common sense mattapan, I salute you
Rest in power to the Guru
Forever gon’ rep for the true school word up
Not a fan of all that garbage that they
Got out here man calling it music
But there is still a lot
Of good Hip-Hop though
Some good music out here too
So I’ma give yourself melodic
You know what I mean?
Big Shug with a couple of friends, feel me
Aha it’s what it is
Aha not a fan though of that garbage
Check it
Only spitting shit you got to believe
You’s about as hood as Drake and Justin Bieb
You’s about as real as Hulk and Superman
Come to Mattapan
My sons will break your hands
Spicy veggies, curry, Pakistan
Big Shug reign supreme, I’m still that man
You can run if you want to
I’ll blaze your car nice footwork
You can go dance with the stars
Or decay in the trunk of a old stolen car
You don’t mean nothing to me
I don’t care who you are
One call will still get you stomped in a ball
No fronting tough, I done seen it all before
If I got beef, trust me
I’ll bring it to your door
And chop your ass up like I’m zipping the raw
You’s a cop caller, I see in your eyes
A snitch dude, the kind to despise
So I’ma open my stance with a bat in my hand
‘Cause, I’ma send your head to
The back of the stands
To be bagged and tagged in the back of a van
And buried deeply in six feet of sand
Yap, yap, yap, I can’t understand
You’s a good rapper, but I’m not a fan
I’m not a fan of yours
I’m not hating, all I’m just saying
Is I’m not a fan of yours
I’m not a fan, man look that way
Fuck out of here with that shit termanology
Shug, what up uh
I ain’t a fan of that shit you write
The whips and ice you claim you got
How you play the blocks in Mercedes drives
When the truth is you’re
Going through illusions
Sitting in the house full of doubt
It’s confusing
You rap about ice, but you ain’t got a chain
Claiming you’re a gangster
But you ain’t got a name
Rappers nowadays perpetrate how
They percolate
Man I miss the Raekwon, Ghostface
Purple Tape
Man I miss the De La, Gang Starr, Tribe days
Now we got a bunch of
Fake guys coming sideways
Looking in the mirror like "really
I’m the realist killer that ever lived"
But they never lived how we lived
I was raised in the ghetto
Can you say the same though?
If you never lived like this
You shouldn’t say so
The music industry is fake as fuck
The music that they’re making sucks
Man I tell you I couldn’t make this up
Cheah i was talking with the legends
Hood politicking ‘bout the present
State of rap
And what you rep ain’t impressing
No, I’m not a fan
Was dope when you could throw a
Wack tape in garbage can
But now digital iTunes
Eliminate the physical, goddamn
Getting tagged with your BS
Radio payola got all the dumbed
Down rappers grabbing BDS
You see me stressed
You see the big homie Shug call Term and Reks
Told us aim for the necks
Cross dressing emo thugs, transgender sex
You can get the one between ring and index
Ding ding then flex off
The turnbuckle then suplex
De La Soul, too complex
And with your nonsense bullshit content
If I don’t like it, I don’t like it
That’s common sense mattapan, I salute you
Rest in power to the Guru
Forever gon’ rep for the true school word up