For Real 歌词
| 歌曲 | For Real |
| 歌手 | Scarface |
| 专辑 | The Untouchable |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Verse 1： | |
| I got this coffee pot of white soap | |
| Stuck my hanger down the center | |
| When i entered i spent it cause it was like **** | |
| But on the real-a he was jackin' me for scratch | |
| Cause out of 36 ounces this mother******* brought me 20 back | |
| I'm slanging 20 sacs cause i done lost 16 | |
| And these goddamn streets aint going to bring me back | |
| Now could it be the southside big baller | |
| Bolo rock slanger stones done got slaughtered-damn | |
| I'm going up on my whole thangs | |
| And stepped on don't go runnin my clique cause it's a old game | |
| And all i ever wanted was some hundred stacks | |
| I went from slangin' o-z's to movin' hundred sacks | |
| Gotta make my money back | |
| Cause i done came too far up in these goddamn streets | |
| To get my money snatched | |
| I'm so for real about this mother****** skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin' killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus: | |
| (scratching and mixing) | |
| All i have is this small skrilla | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I know this ******* run this game of life | |
| So mother****** sheist that at night he got to sleep with lights | |
| Cause he done come across with ************t so shade | |
| That mutha *******s comin with clips to locate him | |
| Aint no waitin and once they spot him they gon' sure face him | |
| And once the got him they gon' sure waste him | |
| This aint no mutha ****** joke ******* it aint worth it | |
| And even if your mother gets in it you cant surface | |
| It was all purpose | |
| Just like that bull************t you was serving it was all purpose | |
| We all chipped in ******* and we all hurting | |
| I gots to grind just like in eighty-nine | |
| When a *******s 25 cent pieces look just like baby dimes | |
| I'm on the corner selling whole eights | |
| I don't remember being this ****** paranoid since i sold weight | |
| I went from 50 sacs to 50 packs | |
| And all because this mother******* got jipped he wants to jip me back | |
| But when i find him i'm gon finalize him | |
| Just to let a ******* know i'm for real and down to die for mine | |
| And i'm for real about this mutha ****** skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Game made to be swift since eighty-six when i started | |
| Seems like *******s with hustle got outsmarted | |
| Cause now they wanna ************yze they homies for scratch | |
| Catch them when they sleeping come down and up scrap | |
| And even though i plotted hittin' *******s for ends | |
| I never took out straps and shot gats at friends | |
| It was all about being for real where i was from | |
| Where very few *******s came real but i was one | |
| I dedicate this to my homies stuck in battle | |
| Living life being caught up in this mutha ******' gamble | |
| The game made to be changed but the *******s still started | |
| ******* seems to be blamed for the *******s gettin slaughtered | |
| How many times you had your homie shot | |
| By the same mutha ******* whose game came from your homies block | |
| *******s get caught up in the paper chase | |
| And lose respect for the game | |
| That was honored before the cake was made | |
| Chorus |
| Verse 1: | |
| I got this coffee pot of white soap | |
| Stuck my hanger down the center | |
| When i entered i spent it cause it was like | |
| But on the reala he was jackin' me for scratch | |
| Cause out of 36 ounces this mother brought me 20 back | |
| I' m slanging 20 sacs cause i done lost 16 | |
| And these goddamn streets aint going to bring me back | |
| Now could it be the southside big baller | |
| Bolo rock slanger stones done got slaughtereddamn | |
| I' m going up on my whole thangs | |
| And stepped on don' t go runnin my clique cause it' s a old game | |
| And all i ever wanted was some hundred stacks | |
| I went from slangin' oz' s to movin' hundred sacks | |
| Gotta make my money back | |
| Cause i done came too far up in these goddamn streets | |
| To get my money snatched | |
| I' m so for real about this mother skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin' killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus: | |
| scratching and mixing | |
| All i have is this small skrilla | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I know this run this game of life | |
| So mother sheist that at night he got to sleep with lights | |
| Cause he done come across with t so shade | |
| That mutha s comin with clips to locate him | |
| Aint no waitin and once they spot him they gon' sure face him | |
| And once the got him they gon' sure waste him | |
| This aint no mutha joke it aint worth it | |
| And even if your mother gets in it you cant surface | |
| It was all purpose | |
| Just like that bull t you was serving it was all purpose | |
| We all chipped in and we all hurting | |
| I gots to grind just like in eightynine | |
| When a s 25 cent pieces look just like baby dimes | |
| I' m on the corner selling whole eights | |
| I don' t remember being this paranoid since i sold weight | |
| I went from 50 sacs to 50 packs | |
| And all because this mother got jipped he wants to jip me back | |
| But when i find him i' m gon finalize him | |
| Just to let a know i' m for real and down to die for mine | |
| And i' m for real about this mutha skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Game made to be swift since eightysix when i started | |
| Seems like s with hustle got outsmarted | |
| Cause now they wanna yze they homies for scratch | |
| Catch them when they sleeping come down and up scrap | |
| And even though i plotted hittin' s for ends | |
| I never took out straps and shot gats at friends | |
| It was all about being for real where i was from | |
| Where very few s came real but i was one | |
| I dedicate this to my homies stuck in battle | |
| Living life being caught up in this mutha ' gamble | |
| The game made to be changed but the s still started | |
| seems to be blamed for the s gettin slaughtered | |
| How many times you had your homie shot | |
| By the same mutha whose game came from your homies block | |
| s get caught up in the paper chase | |
| And lose respect for the game | |
| That was honored before the cake was made | |
| Chorus |
| Verse 1: | |
| I got this coffee pot of white soap | |
| Stuck my hanger down the center | |
| When i entered i spent it cause it was like | |
| But on the reala he was jackin' me for scratch | |
| Cause out of 36 ounces this mother brought me 20 back | |
| I' m slanging 20 sacs cause i done lost 16 | |
| And these goddamn streets aint going to bring me back | |
| Now could it be the southside big baller | |
| Bolo rock slanger stones done got slaughtereddamn | |
| I' m going up on my whole thangs | |
| And stepped on don' t go runnin my clique cause it' s a old game | |
| And all i ever wanted was some hundred stacks | |
| I went from slangin' oz' s to movin' hundred sacks | |
| Gotta make my money back | |
| Cause i done came too far up in these goddamn streets | |
| To get my money snatched | |
| I' m so for real about this mother skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin' killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus: | |
| scratching and mixing | |
| All i have is this small skrilla | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I know this run this game of life | |
| So mother sheist that at night he got to sleep with lights | |
| Cause he done come across with t so shade | |
| That mutha s comin with clips to locate him | |
| Aint no waitin and once they spot him they gon' sure face him | |
| And once the got him they gon' sure waste him | |
| This aint no mutha joke it aint worth it | |
| And even if your mother gets in it you cant surface | |
| It was all purpose | |
| Just like that bull t you was serving it was all purpose | |
| We all chipped in and we all hurting | |
| I gots to grind just like in eightynine | |
| When a s 25 cent pieces look just like baby dimes | |
| I' m on the corner selling whole eights | |
| I don' t remember being this paranoid since i sold weight | |
| I went from 50 sacs to 50 packs | |
| And all because this mother got jipped he wants to jip me back | |
| But when i find him i' m gon finalize him | |
| Just to let a know i' m for real and down to die for mine | |
| And i' m for real about this mutha skrill | |
| That any obstacle obscuring my paper is gettin killed | |
| For real | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Game made to be swift since eightysix when i started | |
| Seems like s with hustle got outsmarted | |
| Cause now they wanna yze they homies for scratch | |
| Catch them when they sleeping come down and up scrap | |
| And even though i plotted hittin' s for ends | |
| I never took out straps and shot gats at friends | |
| It was all about being for real where i was from | |
| Where very few s came real but i was one | |
| I dedicate this to my homies stuck in battle | |
| Living life being caught up in this mutha ' gamble | |
| The game made to be changed but the s still started | |
| seems to be blamed for the s gettin slaughtered | |
| How many times you had your homie shot | |
| By the same mutha whose game came from your homies block | |
| s get caught up in the paper chase | |
| And lose respect for the game | |
| That was honored before the cake was made | |
| Chorus |
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