Da Realist Spitters (feat. L1)

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SJ

SJ, also known as SJ The Great, is a South Korean singer, songwriter, and actor. He is a member of the boy band Super Junior, which was formed in 2005 under the entertainment company SM Entertainment. SJ has been active in the music industry for over a decade and has contributed to Super Junior's success as one of the leading K-pop groups. He has also released solo tracks and collaborated with other artists. SJ is known for his versatile vocals and charismatic stage presence. more »

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Good evening! I'm Ryan Schultz
Tonight, we begin with an announcement from Jock City
Who claims he's the best in Youngstown
Calling out any who oppose
Our sources have tried to contact Jock City on his statement
But he denied comment
Other artists have taken offense to his comment
Some even claiming to destroy his career

I live raps, spit 'em in the booth
Rebuke these rappers who try t' look cute
Talkin' 'bout they swag in the trap
When they has no respect and they lack the dues
J you're too harsh on them, they're trying hard my friend
Invite them mane, ignite their flame, we'll give them life again
Ay what's that? Shit, oh shit! Oh shit!
Oh, Oh he got a machete! Ah! Ahh!
Ay dawg, ay dawg what you doin' with the - aye aye!
Get out the blades, we slicin' dicin' triflin' rappers t' rollback prices
Enlighten ya titans I'm strikin' they ego, I'm solid in icin' tonight
I'm flyin' the skies with this rhymin' ya lines are declinin' you're one fry shy
Of a happy meal, shit you'd have to be crazy t' clash with me like the swap to a fly
Mentally ill when it comes t' this shit Bolt 4G, hope ya ready t' sprint
'Cause I'm gonna lap you again and again til your top begins t' spin, get it? Lap top
I'm kinda sick with these twisted gimmicks but that's a given
I see that grimace has risen, you look disgusted, pimpin'
So get jabbed in ya notepad, punchline, get cracked, Bo Jack, better run boy
Just hang ya mic up (but why?) we in different leagues, I'm king, you're fun size
Dark Knight, it's the long Halloween, holiday for me t' kill regimes
Warnin' t' wack rappers: the rat pack's back to attack and lay you flat

We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid
We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid

My conglomerate's untouchable like the sun's surface
Kept me underground for years, but just wait til son surface
Got limitless bars, even write when I'm outta ink
My iPod mind is infinite, never outta sync
This the revolution, please raise ya hand t' your line
The execution of the rappers that have damaged your mind
'Bouta make history, we make plans before time
1093, is prehistoric like the land before time
Edgar Allan Poe tip, misunderstood author
Go nuts and create anything, George Washington Carver
So for rappers that's one dimensional, gun raps and women flow
Poppin' pills, liquor, yo, time for y'all t' hit the door
And exit the buildin' 'fo' we make a target with you
Da realist spitters here enough of that artificial 
We've been workin' so it's time for the retribution 
Lyrical 1, 1093, this the revolution

We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid
We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid

I hear chatter about rappin actors lackin the facts in the caps they stackin'
Yappin' 'bout cash, they babes they hit, you're a banger now and you've been to the pen (ooh!)
Ya prolly got the nads rammed in the ass from the back by Big Elroy straight off the maxi pad
Homie get mad, long as you doin' that, I might have a career in rap (heh)
I don't apologies writin' down rhymes bout the guys who tries t' test me on this mic (right?)
It's like Brittany Speares callin' me a dummy
I ask "Who's Shakespeare?" "It's me, honey" (dumb bitch)
You see this country was built by hungry strugglin' hustlers 
In they twenties, now they making stupid money 
You's a bummy lackey for tryna talk t' me, yappin' 'bout you want a feature
Must be out yo cotton pickin' mind, I'm tryna slave for freedom (Yo name is Toby)
"Okay that's cool, you ain't movin' units anyway" 
Yet I own a company, you have no buzz or mixtape
See what y'all kats don't understand is everyone's doin' the same things you do
Same game you play's insane, redo, lemme show you how pathetic's your view
You live in a hood where you rap, gun clap, get ass, and you beez in the trap (What?)
Well, you're wack and you live with your mom (Heh, he got half a bar)

We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid
We da realist spitters, diligent winners
Built by real rhymes straight up menace, heh
Bring ya mics out and let the games begin
So we can battle for control of the city's grid

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