Ultramagnetic MC's

Ultramagnetic MC's - Fuck You lyrics

rate me

(Whassup?) Yo, it's just that

We the we the best in the United States

And they don't wanna give it to us

But we the kings, we the real kings

And all that other bullshit you get, is counterfeit

So you know, stop buyin them other bullshit records

(Stop gettin that plastic) and be dedicate...

Raise your hands in the air and become (that plastic hip-hop)

Dedicated Ultra fans! You know what that means?

You can't buy no other records

(Ohh shit!)

Yeah fuck 'em! These motherfuckers ain't shit

Tryin to rhyme and tryin to get, NASTY~!

I know the game when I'm steppin in bullshit

You better quit, when you're makin a fake hit

You ain't hard, buggin and so rough

You're jack doo-doo, and soft as cream puff

I know MC's who feel proud and black though

I know many; their ass sound whack though

Tryin to walk up, don't give me no pound

FUCK YOU, cause you ain't down

Busting a move and that fucked up freestyle

I go mad wild, lyrically so wild

Look up stepchild, I fuckin support you

But you sound whack, now I have to abort you

CAUGHT YOU, jerking off in the bathroom

Bitin my fresh rhymes in back of the classroom

Copyin, bitin shit off the master

Lookin for dope rhymes but I'm a come after

Hittin your brain like a motherfuckin blackjack

Rappers on stage, steppin to me they're wick-whack

Weak-ass rhymes show get off the stage black

Fuck up the mic girl you're bitch now get back

Fuck it! I see the bitches on the mic

You treat 'em the same, like niggaz on the mic

No pity; you shouldn'ta got in the game

It's like rappin to win, with a fucked up name

Like Pussy P, who the fuck is he or she?

Yeah them niggaz is whack! Fuck 'em

Fuck 'em... fuck 'em... fuck 'em... fuck 'em...

Fuck 'em... fuck 'em... FUCK YOU!

Yo, fuck them! I put their rhymes in a pooper scoop

They can't rap, they sound like doo doo and Fruit Loops

Rap for money fame women and videos

They need to sit down write better material

Like this, for a motherfuckin freestyle

Lose they jheri curls cause they're not real

Niggaz, from the motherfuckin Bronx and

Killin in Brooklyn, with rhymes that's stompin

The competition, to me they're like children

You pick up the mic you get treated like pilgrims

Back on the boat, on a mission to another land

Takin you out's like beatin up Peter Pan

Boy, I hear you like to copy

Rap in yo' country, that shit sound sloppy

Learn how to rap like a pro with a real flow

Straight up South Bronx original rap tone

Takin my time as I teach better rappin buddy

So be quick like a kid with some Silly Putty

So back up, think what are you doin

You live in a fantasy, you're soon to ruin

Your career, you hear? I'm not here to scare

But I'm here to share what I feel is fair

Yeah~! Y'all know what that is

Yo TR tell 'em

Yeah, y'all know what time it is

All you rappers out there, livin foul

Perpetratin what you're not

Tryin to be hard, tryin to be soft, butter soft

Act a clown, makeup fallin down

Put the shit down and be yourself, y'knahmsayin?

That's what it's all about in the 90's

Be yourself, PEACE!

I know, and you know (yeah)

That no matter what we done

We'd like to tell everybody how we feel about it all

And if we've offended anybody in any way

We don't give a shit!

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

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