"Ayo, what the fuck is this?" "Yo, that's that shit I was telling you about. That's that Sadat X, Diamond D, and Lord Finesse beat." "Oh okay, alright alright."
Ayo you know the shit is real (So don't front, jack) Yo, you know the shit is real (So don't front) Ayo you know the shit is real (So don't front, jack) Ayo you know the shit is real (You can't front)
[Sadat X] Hmmm, straight to my toes making shit that hits The brothers often say that the quiet bald head Is like a bad motherfucker Now Rule bread and uptown fame Two to the head, what, daddy listen up Ayo, don't beat me over the head with that dumb shit, dad This is the type of shit I do, and Diamond me and you Along with your crew and the Nubians, too Made up some next shit, ayo but wash it off the skit Rapping in this whole soul over, that know from ?throw over? Who was in the rough, but Al said I'm the roughest Yo buck, this shit is hot, Diamond, you know how I feel Every time you call my crib you get some wreck shit is real I come with herbs and verbs, always a step ahead You can't nap on the dap cause it's wide The X will provide all souls aside Who gets the past but if your shit sounds trash You gotta go, I got a lot of soul, yo Old enough to know a real move from a brother Tell you who gets nuff or who's just pulling a brush Uptown stay the same, 2000 got the coochies Peace to Unique, mega Oreo got the lucci Bald heads run around, hey my man you got some stubble Rob G cut me low, let these cats know That when I chopped off my box, it opened up some next shit I hold next slow to make the old age grew Then I kicked it up, next spice lights Shorty's doing his own thing, the man with the knife Check it out, yo, Sadat X and Diamond D with the '93 shit
You know the shit is real (You can't front, Jack) Yo, you know the shit is real (You can't front) Yo, you know the shit is real (You can't front, Jack) Yo, you know the shit is real (You can't front)
[Diamond] Ayo I'm telling you now, it's the chubby kid from 125th street Chopping motherfuckers into pieces of mincemeat Back up boy, don't try to play me like a pipsqueak Don't even want to hear no words if your shit's weak Cause where I come from you might get done Like a steak on a seasame seed bun I got the mad flow, niggas drink they hassle They contemplate my name and then they say "Shorty's bad" so Come on give me my props You can call it for your little sister or your moms and your pops Straight from the ghetto, and ?you the birds? Stunts that used to front get kicked to the curb With the quickness, I'm rhyming over the beats with the thickness So run to the store so you can get this And memorize the words so the next time you here it you can kick this Yeah, no time for faking, stay away from bacon I clock G's from the beats that I'm making Niggas was sleeping, but now have awakened Ask the Boriquas, ask the Jamacians Who's the man in the hot seat? Giving niggas chills like Ralph in ?Hot Sea? I'm sending niggas back to bed Like an overdose of Actifed It's just a taste of the '93 shit Ayo, it ain't no secret
Ayo, you know the shit is real (You can't front, Jack) Yo, you know the shit is real (You can't front) Hey, you know the shit is real (You can't front, Jack) Yo, you know the shit is real (You can't front)
[Lord Finesse] Check it, it ain't nothing you can gain from it (It's the Funky Man) And ain't a damn thing changed, money I lounge on the downlow MC's be fronting like they funky but theu can't fuck around though Niggas I spare none, I never shoot a fair one And I write rhymes more than bitches get their hair done M