Lyrics:
Now if you real fly, fuck with a real guy
Give them your real eye, we rock on and on
You keep yo' heels high, keep it real tight
Who gettin' real
birds you would let em fly
Yeah, cause real niggas never die (What?)
Somebody tell me why (why)
Why the good die young (why)
Sometimes it makes me
Yeah
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin' around this bitch, pissy drunk with the snub
Niggas want to get it crackin', we don't
don't prosecute them 'cause it's how they make paper
When you rocking that fly shit that's made in China
By an eight year old child tryna feed his mama
He
We just ride and get high, 'til the sun cracks the sky
Keep that heat by my side, that's how gangsters get by
Cause it's an eye for an eye, when I
at all (no, no, no, no)
Can't be budged by your muscle (no, no, no, no)
Never riding on E (no, no, n-no, no)
It's De La and Butta V (drive you crazy)
was originally
Scheduled to be released last
Year, but it was pushed back
By Meek's label, Atlantic
After he was sentenced to
Six months in prison
(He
hahahahaha
that nigga Master P back in the house for the 9 5 shot
well take a step into this madness that we call the dope game
Richmond
never had cents
Oh no
Fuck all them niggas they dodging
All of them bitches is my bitches
All of my niggas is mobbing
They didn't try us, we got it
you got five on she ain't doin' her thang
(Come on, you know you need to)
Slow doww-ow-ow-own, young girl
Keep it real hon', got to keep it real hon'
dollars and cents for a heightened sense of ignorance
Hey, Welcome back
take a seat or pop a squat
Peep these rappers keep it real
Yea, as real as Papa
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin' around this bitch, pissy drunk with the snub
Niggas want to get it crackin', we don't give
the sound of my heater
When the ill stuff jumps
I keep it strictly confidential, bulletproof is requested
Got the fits in my hand and I've already blessed
chins and a line of jive
He's a mellow old cat, a real hep fat
He be Mister Five by Five
That man can really jump it for a fat man
The only trouble
chins and a line of jive
He's a mellow old cat, a real hep fat
He be Mister Five by Five
That man can really jump it for a fat man
The only trouble
You two bit hustla I'm the
Wrong brother like Clockers
Wouldn't give you five cents to
Put cheese on a whopper
So see a niga dea a mere niga rea
Bea I'm
through you)
Cardboard cut-out real world shut-out
Colour by numbers you’re number one (one!)
Popular to boot
Now scoot
Hey woman
What you gonna do with
I stuff 3 5 in my leaf
Shit so loud like cat pee
Got me running through the bag
Like a track meet
Work hard play hard
Gotta get me
What I shit you
independent
My team on my back if I need em
But by myself I can go get it
Don't give a fuck if you believe me or not
My request is that you tune in and listen
but bitches by the fives keep changing their mind
I'mma end up in the first Place
You fuckin walk round a waste Space
Hungry I done gotta good Taste
I'm
32 is dead
Let's keep it going on
Let's see what happened next
Next day all three of us went driving by our new address
That brand new whipple home
worldwide
Keep some killers by my side
Do this shit worldwide
Six in the morning, niggas up at my door
Reached under the pillow for the 44
See, you know it’s
I ain't felt inspired for like two years
Went and traded lines wit some new peers
Off the docks I been stepping it's a nuisance
Fuck your two cents I
want it real bad
The way that ima get it is by spittin real raps
In the face of adversity
I take a glance back
I'm smarter then I look you would think
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