Mausberg - Shut Up Lyrics
Yo it's a lotta niggas bangin' the realest that ain't worth itYou bein' fakeYou're *****in' with Mausberg the GreatThe king of the blockLickin' hot shots to keep the pesticides off my jockWell if it's on then it's onI'm bustin' with the black and the chromeBlack tech gangsta, platinum crowns on my domeYou wanna rumble, chuck em around with the superbCome up show, chain tokin' all your herbI'm'a (?) this nigga with (?) in the gameAnd this bullet goes out to niggas bitin' my nameThought it was subliminal, but real doggs recognize them thangsThat's why your chronic bout to change the gameCertified bet, before my album even popAnd *****in' with Quik, that's certified platinum when I dropAnd I'm callin' out competitors, lettin' you knowIf you ***** with the Berg I gun ya down fo shoCHORUS (x2)Shut up, niggaYou're *****in' with my name 'stead of my game*****in' with my fameShut up niggaAnd mind your ownBefore you can't find your ownEy yo I keep a full metal jacketThe opposite of a bad habitMedicatin' niggas who start staticIt's on now, jet line suits and war bootsMarine green canteen (?) and lime juiceMausberg the superiorYou never heard of a more (?) nigga comin' out the urban areaFake, fraud, and fictitiousLike som parsley in a Ziploc bagI got the crown fool, it ain't for grabsI run through the biggest packs of niggasWith my fists *****ed back, and ready for combatAnd hit ya, with six blows to ya craniumI'm the dime nigga***** this rap hunch niggas, I'm gainin' emIt's the Y2K, but the glitch is in this ***** niggasDon't want to ride with they own kinda niggasMe and Quik bout to take it to the limitErasin' all coward ass punks and gimmicksWe the realest for realChorus 2xI'm still sportin' gray jeans with the black and white Polo'sWith the chucks cut lo do'sNiggas thought that I was goin' HollywoodAfter rhythmalismBut all that taught me was to keep it realismGive a pound to my real thugsUse a jimmy when I ***** a *****Stay away from unknown drugsBut unlike y'all, ***** made, don't know where you fromLyin' on your records about niggas you done***** what happened to Cavaricci jeans and backpacksWhere you get them khakis and that dog patchYou ain't no gangstaYou only get in to fit inTake yo ass to the circus with your family and friendsCuz i'm too rough, too (?), too rugged for y'all kindAnd I gotta keep them cowards from crossin' the red linePointe blank, niggas'll do whatcha doBut keep in mind when you come across the Berg you're throughChorus 3x
