What The Hell - On the Real lyrics

Alright!

(See that’s being for real, as of now)
(For real though)

No need to flex ‘cause I wrecks
With the lyrical throw down
A showdown, with me you’ll need a miracle
Rip on the flipside
Spin the wheel of fortune
Swarming like a bunch of
Culture shock is scorching
Writing what I’m writing then
Enliven with my pick
I’ll shish kebab your ass like
A piranha on a stick
Quick to inject the vinyl
Venom in your system got a lot of problems
I’ll be pissed I need to list them
Your style sucks dick, uh
Your crew sucks dick
You’re sucking so much I’m about to cum quick
I spunk from the junk that
You think is hunky dory fucking punk
Your funky stories from the kiddie category
I knocked your socks off (You know It)
Made you f feel bad
But I’m glad I got my rocks off
Wannabes are going to see me
And what they should be
Could be they’re trying to battle Shane B
Would be senseless like a game of 52 pickup
I could slide and ride the rhythm
Even if I got the hiccups
Stick up your hands ‘cause I’m taking
You for everything you've got
And I’ll say "thanks a lot"
I’m pulling your leg if I say
I know just how you feel
And that’s on the real

(See that’s being for real, as of now)
(For real though)

That’s on the real (Yes, it’s on the real)
I said, that’s on the real
(Yes, it’s on the real) that’s on the real
(Yes, it’s on the real)
I said, that’s on the real
(See that’s being for real, as of now)

Rev up the reel, my rhymes are on idol
Speaking for real on the rhythm
Check the title
I think they make you facts, jack
You never see me front because
I always watch my back
Attack, black beast when I release
My pressure
Yes sir, you the second guesser, professor
No lesser, listen to my lesson
Put up your hands please
Don’t question my ability
Facilities, I rock to a tee
Don’t blame me for casualties
What’s it got to do with me? Nothing honey
Come on, money no fun what's up? Is it
That time of the month? What?
You can sing to this but all
I have to do is butt
Hey mister, get out the picture
I mean get out the frame
Show you why I can't get my name to you
Damn, my man
Are you really gonna step on my shoes
Even though they're no suede
You be singing me the blues took it
Look at, give it here, give it back
Gimme, gimme never gets
Shut up you backseat riders, I'm at the wheel
And I ain't from the hill
But I can still be real

(See that’s being for real, as of now)
(For real though)