Lloyd Banks You Ain't Authentic (Game Diss) Lyrics

[Lloyd Banks]
Okay, okay, okay! That's it!
Hah hah hah hah...
You stupid m_________er! Uh?
I'm what you wanna be, ni**a!
Huh? Talk that s___ in front of me, man!
You already know what time it is, man, it's the unit!
There's no-one better!
Yeah, one's for the money, two's for the groove,
I cruise, on the interstate so smooth,
Rather be a rebel, move when I wanna move,
30 days straight, 30 pan-holes shoes,
Snooze, feelin' like they got s___ to do,
Use and lose, you do not get to choose,
Sparks crackling off the top of my fuse,
The rap 8-Bomb, so ni**a stay calm,
The flow's way gone, blew away charm,
My own fire-arm with a do-away harm, (?)
I'm a don, b____ logged on,
The 'W-W idea dot com',
Tried to warn 'em (yeah!), now I'm on 'em,
Midnight the more that (?) the kid Michael Jordan,
Disappear, intent here to call him often, (?)
I'm at your front door like a orphan,
Bleeding a lot, never off to auction,
Dude, exhaustion, I brought New York in,
You ever seen a walkin' and talkin' coffin,
Cuz that's what I see when I see ya,
Yeah! We b__p heads, ni**a, oh dear,
The overseer, see my chrome millimeter,
Either, b____es gone and had to much reefa,
Oh, you ain't with it, well I ain't with it either,
Just my luck, to slip into a seizure,
Rap don't need ya, split the Cohiba,
Spit through the throat and get a microphone fever,
Big heart, the temperature of a freezer,
Newsflash - nobody believes ya,
b__ped your f___in' head, developed amnesia,
You ain't me, let alone a leader,
Yeah, you don't even write your own s___, (Ni**a!)
Ni**a, you feelin' hyperbole sick,
I break off a brick then wipe the whole strip,
You want attention, so I'm addressin' ya,
Ni**a I could wrestle ya, or 38 special ya,
And come Christmas it gets messier,
The rat messing yeah, he runnin' ni**as over,
Yeah, I shine, line from line I'm,
Albert Einstein, powers of crime flyin', (?)
The Southside bullshit, I'm on it,
Time to make me sick, lung full o' vomit,
That's what you get when you spar with Mohammed,
c___tail bombs turn your car to a comet,
The hood made him cover up the b___erfly,
Now I'mma make him cover up the other eye,
You ain't never murked nothin', that's another lie,
Ni**a, don't make me hum you a lullaby,
Snap! You ain't got no help now,
We left you all alone 'fore you melt down,
You're cryin' in the dark, and I knew it,
Next time you thinkin' bout killin' yourself, do it,
Cuz you a b____-a__ ni**a any way you view it,
And ain't no 'From Compton, so they can't do it', (?)
I'm from a town where they all rough,
And anybody that done wore a toungue-ring can't talk tough,
You ain't even seen half of Fif',
You only one album in and 50 wrote half of it,
You said you a rider and you thuggin',
Then you turn around and hug Joe Budden,
Now gimme that sofa, I'm buggin',
That's what happens when you turn nuttin' into somethin',
Bad Boys, Puffy, I'm talk if they huffin',
It's all about the Benjamins and playin' four f___ 'em!
Yeah! That's it, man! I ain't finna say I'mma play with your stupid a__, man! You confused m_________er (Hahaha...)
I got a little advice for your a__ too, man - next time you in the room, and, you're all alone, with the light off,
And... stuck in the closet, with your pistol in your mouth, think about blowin' your noodles out, ni**a,
Just go ahead and do it, man, trust me, it's better off that way! You're not authentic, ni**a! You're a copy! f__got!