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You Wack Emcees

Same swag, different day
As some people may want to say
But the truth is their swag is stuuupid
Or stupendous but... only to themselves 'cause
The mirror mirror on the wall
Told them lies, saying they were the dopest of all
Got them walking around proud and tall
Head all off in a fog
Caused by the smog birthed from the hot air they blow
Steeped in the deep part of their souls
Its to that place that they go, where life is a show
And emceeing is all they know
Hard to break free when panties are being thrown
Business cards are being show, and jets are being flown
And you just want to be put on
One...just get a tag for your bag
Play like you just got back from there, son
Keep moving around with other phony ones
Playing like they networking but really club hopping
Fake studio and video spot shopping
But only up north Chicago 'cause thats what's popping
I think you better just stop it
See, there's respect for the grind
You don't just get to shine 'cause you feeling starlike
Or you look good on your photo holding a mic
Yeah, you gotta hustle homie
But not hustle ya homies
You want to spit hot fire like
"Dylan, Dylan, Dylan...Dylan, Dylan"
But when you open your mouth you just be lyyying
Laying there day dreaming about how cold you want to be
Overestimating the greatness of your lyrical quality
You make folk yell out like B.I.G. (R.I.P.)
"Vamoose, you're wack to me.  Take those wack rhymes
back to the factory".
Or get a refund and hire a ghostwriter
That way you're not reeeeally a biter
Plus it will free up your time
So you can just practice rhyming line by line
In the mirror
So your facial expressions can start
Look clearer
And you can work on being fresh to death

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