Wannabes - People Under The Stairs

A wise man will only be useful as a man

He will not submit to be clay or stop a hole to keep the wind away

A hundred percent me, capital B-Boy, the child is the father of the man

Taking pictures with my family, the b-boy stance in '84

Grew up cross-threading hip-hop and Peruvian folklore

Therefore, my indifference to pop stems from the fact

The plan to make a difference in hip-hop as an art, not as income

No I didn’t come into this shit in '93 like a wannab

Repressed buyr, high addresses to the liar

That’s claiming he did this and that, cat used to diss rap back in '86

Now he wanna mix, make beats, et cetera

It’s better to watch and try and prove, it down and read thoughts

Can tell what wannabes are, just everything they’re not

Noun, pronoun, now verb, the clown’s hard to prove

Reserved, no action got served, my faction that’s a fraction

Of my nation, in fact, when I face them, the ice chips

I shadow-battle to free give, it’s natural to me

Never respect blatant wannabes that follow a model

Like kid could mention us to make MC like Michael McDonald

Now grab the bottle, drink away the fact that you’ll always be wack

I got no time for fakin' jacks, 'cause mother got fake jacks are just the…

Are you… you wannabe?

(x2)

Check it out, y’all… yo…

My shit’s 1−5-8−0 proof, the realness bringing the truth to light

Ready to fight for my peeps, man, fuck your color lines

Fool, let’s take it to the street, radio stations giving a fuck

About you, me, or anybody else that ain’t posted on TV

Monday nights, you be in the house getting dumb

While my bitches on the street, making civilians run

Panicked, couldn’t stand the way we flipped the script

I know you like the way I got my johnson on your lip

You nickel-dick biter, exciter of the next

Don’t wanna come original, just known as a wack individual

Stay in your cipher, dude, I’ll stay inside mine

It ain’t enough time for getting 'bout it in rhymes

If you doubted it, I’m 'bout it on the dee-lo, chump

I only let my kids know, never put it in the flow

That’s where y’all fucked up, putting that shit on the waves

Representing Unity, get the shit out my way

Yo, who in the motherfuck handed you the mic

You came to the club with intentions of rocking it all night

But we scheduled other plans, I’m sorry my man

Just can’t take it when niggas like yourself get on the mic and fake it

Been having too long like the (?) first song

When they asked you to rap, you shoulda told 'em you’re wrong

Everybody wants to be somebody else

A wannabe who’s running from the reality of theirself

The national health, I guess, this is symptomatic

Effect of industry, capitalism, and democratic illusions

Take a state like Cali, white kids listen to Death Row

And do drive-bys in Simi Valley

Bump the niggas shit, I guess, it used to be on trial

Went from commentary to a way to glorify the industry

Be saying «nigga» cool, and making believe

That you love the poverty and don’t ever want to leave

You wannabe honestly, honestly, the country wants it this way

You wannabe intelligent, now that would cause some dismay

For he wannabe (?), a player’s called a player

She wannabe loved, the famous wannabe the mayor

The mayor’s son bought a gun, he wannabe a gangsta

Shanked him in the alley in the dumpster by the bank

'Cause a wannabe’s an anomaly for nothing (damn!)

I don’t wannabe a b-boy because I am

'98, y’all, People Under The Stairs

Are you… you wannabe?

(x2)

Let’s peep out these hoes, man…

The real MCs…

Now, look at you, fake lady… wannabe

But never gonna be 'cause you ain’t got the quality

It ain’t like I’m too good for you, more like you’re too legit to quit

Got a job slanging ass-to-mouth and the tits

Not even for a fee, dumb bitch, you buggin'

Every other minute, it’s another nigga you hugging

I’m buggin'?

You need to check your resumé and get it right

From the left, all you see is mean mugs all night

'Cause we ain’t going for it, I see your gameplan, bitch

You wanna be like her, instead your one big glitch

I remember high school, you turned your homework in on time

Now you fucking every dude to say their bus pass rhymes

But I dropped mad dimes and exposed the fake

At five o' clock, it’s Ricki Lake then you off to the breaks

To catch another, smoke a little herb, drink a little liquor

You and your girls competing who can get their next quicker

Wannabes, wannabes, they all in types

Backpacks, baggy pants, «hey, man, you got a pipe?»

Wannabes, wannabes, they all over the place

You can spot 'em anywhere just by the look on their face

Wannabes, wannabes, honestly, they’re confused

Thousand-dollar jumpsuits, snakeskin shoes

Wannabes, wannabes, got no memories

You weren’t down back then, you’re not down with me

… in '98… in '93… in '83… or in '77

You’s a wanna-wannabe, a wannabe… you won’t slam… you wannabe… you wannabe… you

try and make jams…

You won’t slam…

Wannabes… wannabes on their knees, lickin' crazy butt…