Lyrics:
I got my mind on my money, and I'm not goin' away
So keep on gettin' your paper
For real yeah ain't never had to tell me get this bread
Holiday
the mackin' I can find at the thrift store
I won't scuff nor scuffle, just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl I hear talk fly
Down some papaya,
You ain't got no whip, you ain't got no bottle
Let's just be honest, let's just be real
You ain't got no cash, you ain't got no dollas
You stay
Soundwave, I feel we, put together
Some of the most beautiful music my nigga
Real talk, feels so good
Let's get this money
I feel like rapping
Wassup?
Hahaaa
Yeah! Yes! It's real talk, can I talk to y'all for a minute?
I was in the streets the other day, I had a homie come through and he
from the pound
I bust by round by round by round and round
I'm in concert for serving niggas get yo ticket
I lock a nigga out, good cop giminy cricket
recognizes real, so yo, no one cares
The chief executive mack, in so deep you can't imagine
I've seen the beatdowns, the gunfights, plus the paddywagon
See
suit ya you know the bass is real fat because it's
Gotta be like that a snare on the funky tin and a taste of the high hat
Yo Yauch what's up? mike d
talk about it I don't talk about it, be about it
You can come and see me about it I'm a real O.T. about it
Real niggas keep me surrounded We do real
me, stand still don't move
Watch me i'ma show you how to do this, yeah
Uh
I'ma break it down real quick, yo
Ayo, look dog I bought
Villas, stayed in
Yo Ant, kick the beat you just kicked a little while ago
I bitchslap rappers so hard it give 'm whiplash
You fuckin with sleeveless t-shirts,
mean enough?
Enough lashes like I ain't seen enough
On the real, this is like the neo-Emmitt Till
Whistling, get yo fuckin' ass killed
Lets keep this
Wearin' Barkleys, I just parked the 740 by a palm tree (that's real shit)
Stuck to the plan from out the sand, get rich and share it
When you a dope boy,
gotta get a light
To get it right I gotta get a light
No, to get it right I gotta get a ligh
Lemme get a light
Lemme get a light, man, real talk, man
real- who ain't got no feelings
(No doubt, son, keep your eyes open)
(I got this, I got this)
(Just watch my back, I got your front, yo)
Check it out
give the more you get (that's real talk)
Yeah, yeah (let me warm it up for ya)
Who better to usher you back through the gutter
Than America's number
the real shooter
Lay by your house for you
Or set the bitch off for you
Or make some white chalk for me and don't talk back
I got the real shooter
i don't have the time
To knock the hustle for real
Yo, lunching, punching the clock
My function is to make much
And lay back munching
Sipping Remy
en ese caso
Estoy dispuesto a aceptar una cárcel intermedia
I'ma give you real talk
Had to cut a couple bitches off
This year I'm only tryna get
mo' ups and downs, than the Impala switch
Get yo' hand out my pocket nigga, go fish
I was born by myself so I don't owe y'all shit
Nigga you tell me,
mean, what, what's yo flavor?
(Yo check it out kid, I only like real hip-hop man,
the real shit. You know what I'm sayin. Redman, Wu-Tang,
you know
that cappin’ shit? (Shh)
Boy, never bought no MAC-11
You ain't never had it (Mm-mm)
Real dick tease (Uh) , her name was yo' bitch
Patek on my (Huh?) ,
house (yo)
Here comes the nigga with the ruff, the terror
The paranoid, gots to get the boy
Get your steel 'cause I feel like a headbanger
Yeah, I
luncheon meat
In other words you're dead, you got your cap peeled
See I'm a crazy motherfucker and that shit's real
Yo man, whacha think about that
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