Artist: Mausberg Album: Non-Fiction Song: Y2K Typed by: Sauee@hotmail.com Y2K Mausberg kickin' realism Spreadin' game to them coward ass niggas You scared to ball, nigga? You scared to ball, nigga? Yo, I'm 'bout to grind nigga Now it ain't nothin' but a party for the Y2K Fuck the shutdown, my peoples can't afford computers anyway And we gonna party like it's 1985 Chronic smoke and Thai weed all up in the sky Whoever thought that I would come this far? Rich at twenty-one, Johnny Burns the black ghetto supertsar And I'ma reap the benefits of bein' strong My religion is knowin' my right from my wrong Dedicated to bein' the realest nigga that touched ground And Lord knows that I came to put it down Ain't no stoppin' me, ride wit' my dog wit' the key to the city Ain't conceited, just gettin' down to the nitty gritty Compton back on the map for the millenium Ya ain't heard shit until ya heard what I'm givin' em Me and my niggas gon' run a train on the world I'm newlyin' my damn self I make the world twirl Chorus x2 Yo, the time don't stop homie, get your ride on While you worryin' about that and get your grind on Before you niggas commit suicde You better recoginze this world got a long time Aiyo the party don't stop (don't stop) And the glock don't stop tickin' Aiyo them people bullshittin' (bullshittin') Playin' wit' the mind of a grown man Tellin' us some nonsense, knowin' we gone take it to the fam-bam And I ain't trippin' til I see the horses trot down Hey homie keep yo' predictions in yo' own town Cuz I'ma party til the year 3000 Black Tecs on the rise my nigga, we straight clownin' Gettin' our grind on Blowin' up out our zone e'ryday And keepin' far away from the fakes I'm partyin' with the real-ionaire, talkin' to Quik on the NexTel Crap table, orderin' cocktails Backyard lookin' like nothin' but a car light Scared of a new year, but nigga look at what I got Down and dirty, like a natural disaster Only the strong survive nigga, call me master Chorus I'm a full-fledged street veteran, kickin' real shit So if you're fake homie, don't even try to feel this Communicatin' in the form of a soldier And if you fall short, don't say I didn't warn ya Mausberg's on the grind and partyin' the same time Momma told me the world is mine So I'ma cock back and blast off And head for the stars, I ain't takin' no losses I ain't no runner from no profit But I'ma let you know what I know The game is way more potent than a hoe and some dough I'm on a mission dog, cuz time waits for no man The superior strokin, a Lex Luger wit' a gun in his hand I puff a pimp and get to thinkin' bout some deep shit I ain't no hater dog, grab a chair and peep this Don't be scared of the future Take control of your destiny and be the ruler Chorus x2 Realism, Y 2000 Yeah nigga, hell to come homie Straight up, only the strong survive nigga So you fake ass niggas might as well put a pistol in yo mouth and do yo thang