F.H.H.

Keep tryna keep it real by keepin' it raw

While half of y'all still be keepin' it flaw

And all the real heads scream "FUCK HIP HOP!"

Until this mediocre bullshit stops

Drug fiends let me show you the route

Who's that motherfucker still keepin the dope in the house?

It's Mota mouth (who?), it's Mota mouth baby, it's Mota mouth

Whenever I write, I put myself out of place from other cats

So it don't sound like another brother's rap

I smother tracks with raw shit, niggas aren't able to bite

What I bring to the table is height

Then I easily superceed, niggas need what I got

Reason I'm hot, there's no other raw season of pot

While most motherfuckers follow the guidelines and hit by 101

Jakki the Mota mouth decides to have fun

Not following rules, swallowing crews

Son I toss cats off the stage, often I slay their soft raps

To all you fake dictionary emcees, get off that

Half of y'all don't understand your own rhymes and soft batchThey straight at open mics, we put them out on the street

Take away their dope beat, let 'em rhyme and they weak

And the mic can be a decieving device

Muffle your rhymes so they ain't clear and concise

Have niggas thinking you nice

With battle I'll crack all your gear and all your wack raps

You can't be saved by your babbling or your backpack

Doing it for the love is great but you fake

And putting your shit out is a mistake nobody wants to make

Hate when I go to open mics and I see everybody clapping

For some clown they don't understand

Yet everybody acting like he dope because they believe he's hip-hop

Y'all convincing me that most of y'all are brainwashed

Dug(?) in old hip-hop history

Some cats are crap without their tracks 'cause they weak

I wish a nigga would say he listen to me for the beats

Some got the nerve to say they dope when they spit

When even they family got a tape and they won't open the shit

I got a big mouth and I ain't scared to use it

One person's keystyle(?) allows everyone to abuse it

So what the fuck is your definition of underground?

Depressing beats and bleak cats who love the sound

Well I ain't part of that, I'm tired of rapper's garbage

I'm the part of the underground who only feels the raw shit

And I can take a nigga out regardless

You can bring your hardest artists and I'll make 'em heartless

Some say they lyrically this, or lyrically that

Throwing lyrical in every rap and they lyrically wack

And many cats rhyme over tracks nobody fiends(?) for

Don't fuck around with me, if you can only fuck with keyboards

Just 'cause lazy niggas use recognisable material

Don't mean the dope samples are not original

'Cause a producer with skill can lace tracks

Keyboard beats aren't that original, lets face facts

That shit was overused in the G-funk era

Don't give me that excuse, real emcees want better

You rhyme over enough shit, most get away with murder

Like kids who think they words rhyme 'cause they the suffix

Must bitch niggas be fragile with facts

You bragging 'bout who you battled, but who you battled was crap

What you angry for, and acting all tense

If you innocent be cool, only the guilty's catching offense