Lyrics:
(keeping it real)
Yeah! (keeping it real)
Westside!
Is brooklyn in the house? (check it out)
What about queens in the house?!? (inglewood!)
Manhattan
Just your ass, your hips, your lips, my dick tip, my black balls
Dribblin' and dippin' em in your jaw
Scribblin' word rhymes, the crowd givin' applause
my hands
That I’ll be in a moment like player with chance
Now and forever
Forget about what is not matter
We deserve the whole universe in our hands
strike, they duck under.
I’ll be on a flight soon, bringing my wave to Russia.
Wanting the world to be yours is the mind of a hustler.
Chechen Republic,
the hand of God"
Break it down
Your whole life's in the hand of
Your whole life's in the hand of God
My ex girl, I've been seeing, I've been seeing
Tragically struck down in my prime
By the speed at which the bags are dropping
Shoulda watched the sky
You don't wanna live this life, it's really not
enough
Drive-by's, blood-spattered on my shoe, I'm not hood enough
But why cry?
I Waka Flocka Flame, hit your block up
Thug life, it's in my veins, go
the headrest so the piranhas is
Swimming past when Cass comes spinnin past
You know I'm going slow
But my rims is spinning fast
I'm in a class by my self, you
in the headrest so the piranhas is
Swimming past when Cass comes spinnin past
You know I'm going slow
But my rims is spinning fast
I'm in a class by my
be tested
He was preaching to the choir I was in the tenor section like
We had a hard time with it
Me and my niggas
Life ain't even been kind with it
sisters
Then the thought made me sick, what if I was his victim
See my whole life, I have always sang in the choirs
I even sang in my school, I always sang
to give
Long as we're hand in hand your my man I'm your girl
Ready to conquer the world
[Chorus]
Our love is mystical like galaxies you can't touch
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
Welcome to the funeral, yeah
Closed casket as usual
Yeah, welcome to the funeral
The choir's singin' musicals
Kumbaya, it's beautiful
I bust in
Convos with the real cartel this shit fly
The work your plug got is hard to sell
Conway, I'm on one, a hundred in my carry-on
The fast life is beautiful
It
mesmerized
Can see it in your eyes
Got my heart capsized
Tryin' to be revived
Stayin' clive
By the Bee Gees
Cuz your love is so strong
Hot like my coffee in
they hands on
Party people let me see where your hands are
Brooklyn in the building got 'em scared y'all
Rock wilding wilding out in the beat
nigga (Keeping it real)
Yeah! (Keeping it real)
Westsiiiide!
Is Brooklyn in the house?!? (Check it out)
What about Queens in the house?!?
preaching to the choir please deliver us
Just keep it real with us, you scared to spill your blood
Your words rung hollow, we need someone to follow
In
I'll be making the plans
Kissing their babies and shaking their hands
Man, God gave me my life back then He brought my wife back
I'm suited
your shit thawed
I'll set your roof on fire till it's no ceiling
No fireman go go Let's go Brooklyn
You are now tuned in to the show killers
Sponsored by
New York, set it off)
Yo' ha ha ha ha ha yo' yo'
(LS in this biaatch)
We in the motherfuckin' west coast right now
(Westside) word to mother, my nigga
life, life really's a wrap
Your s*** b**** weak, 16 is 6 feet deep
Baby bar, par, crap in your diapers
I'm crazy, I don't play with y'all
Crack in
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