Reality Check - Rapper Big Pooh

Aiyyo, I’m fat' than a muh’fucker

Got light skin, so black' than a muh’fucker

Step outa line, get clapped lil' muh’fucker

I ain’t got a gun but stay strapped lil' muh’fucker

And I ain’t raising no guns my nigga

Nah, I’m raising my sons

You fruit, you hot grapes, raisins in the sun

We not Broadway playing, you ain’t a gangster

Be a man and just stand up and just say it

Now see… now wasn’t that easy?

You ain’t come home from the yard nigga, you ain’t DP

You ain’t made no Cash Money nigga, you ain’t Weezy

Saw the beef that you cook, nigga you ain’t greasy

But as for me, I’m done with the thugging

Three kids to feed and plus the family got needs

Uh, this is big business here, you can front with us

And tighten the noose up and watch Black kick the chair

It’s a suicide, it’s a suicide

Wait, run and tell these niggas who am I

I go by the name of Black, and on or off track

Man I’m everything you are plus everything you lack

Uh, I’m younger, I’m smarter, I’m bigger, I’m better

I’m nitty, I’m gritty, I’m witty, I’m clever

You can’t fuck with me

I guess this industry is stuck with me

I’m a cut above the rest like a buck fifty

Rocks a solo or a guest spot

I’m on my game like I’m standing on an Xbox

Fuck a rest stop, cruising on this road to riches

Hate me, like step pops I expose the bitches

Rate me, with Big Pop' man I’m one of the best

Think not, you’re in need of a reality check, yes!

Uh, you know I’m that cold

Frost bitten flow, rap with the glow

Piss it in the snow just to let 'em know

I don’t act for show, I’m through talking

I CeCe Peniston niggas keep walking

I bite often, never quit barking

Up the wrong tree, from the top see I’m stalking

Pause when I walk in, eyes on me

I’m fresh from my braids to the recs on my feet

You lames can’t keep up when I speak

I sound so sheik/Sheek, no not The LOX

The key to the box, I keep it in my sock

I look to my flock and spread the word

They call me Shep cause the way I herd

Rapper’s absurd, Rapper got nerve

You carry-bun niggas better kick 'em to the curb

This is my word, my word is my bond

Stake in potatoes, y’all niggas just flawn

And I don’t know what type of shit you on

I’m a king on the board and your ass is just a pawn

Yeah, the master’s been alarmed every ten years

These old niggas ain’t handing, passing their baton

Ain’t nothing sacrament, MC

Critics wanna negate the acronym, maximum exposure

Word is niggas can’t rap in California

Regional rap, the normity casino went back

I’m the unsung hero with the ego to match

No Evisal, just the easel, my cerebral is that

Intact, strapped, black as Don Chino, relax

Blondes, bilinguals, all kinds of PR trap

The deuce-deuce is offset and twenty-threes in the back

Yeah the calibre’s rim, Grim Reaper is black

The Benz sleeker but the six-forty viva is fly

Y’all the meaningless, my Quentin Tarantino is vibe

It’s un-TiVo-able, y’all gon' have to come see it to show

Stroll a much more meaningful flow

The best of both worlds, niggas ain’t believing me though

Like I’m evenly cut, plus the game need police and not the pre-seen type

Y’all niggas came to shoot the breeze, I’m here to DC snipe

Y’all can’t see me, niggas call me League-League Myke'

Y’all niggas D-League nikes selling the seaweed raps

I’m in the CD kipes, easy, through these mp3s I splice

Khrysis on the MPC like «nice»

Never heard a catalogue more catastrophic

Or more brash in topic selection

Forever out the box, but ain’t ever out the loot

Will I ever get my props for my efforts in the booth?

Only Lord knows as far as the law goes

At award shoes I’m more chose with more flows to come