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'that's what the ***** i'm talkin' about |
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That real *****t *****' |
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Living room packed, laid back on the flow |
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*****z can't see me on the madden with frisco |
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I'm runnin' fools straight to the dirt |
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While my man train talkin' on the phone, the evil curse |
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*****z waste gas drivin' down the same streets |
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And hood rats wi*****n' for the passenger seats |
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Flag 'em down, like they flaggin' down to get a taxi |
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Too good to ride a bus, drinkin' is a must |
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Another day kickin' back, the scientist is hard at work |
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Thinkin' how to get paid, kickin' back in the shade |
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Or call will and temple where my homie down by zeenie |
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With the bald head it's too hot for the beanie |
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Sittin' on the porch *****z run the stop sign |
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Hookers sell they bodies 'round the way ain't hard to find |
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Right in the corner of mcdonald's parkin' lot |
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Peepin' out their hair 'cause that spot is hot |
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And that's real |
|
(chorus)(2x) |
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***** gotta keep my *****t real |
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Lettin' punk *****z know how the ***** i feel |
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***** ass *****z always wanna be around |
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A ***** like ren when i put that real *****t down |
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Randy up the street cuttin' up the fresh fade |
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And compton p.d. around the corner 'bout to raid |
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The yellow helicopter hangin' 'round like a gnat |
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And hood rats yellin' out a car where the party at |
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My robbin' train go and get a duce |
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And *****z 'round the way don't give a damn about a gang truce |
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But i gotta lotta love for my people |
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And like they ain't tryin', *****z just keep dyin' |
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I won't be like most *****z and just come |
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And shoot my video in compton and disappear for a year |
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We make fools like that shake the spot |
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One for the treble jack yo ass in the parkin' lot |
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'cause handkerchief headed *****z come around fakin' |
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Braggin' 'bout that money they be makin' |
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Boot lickin' butt dancin' *****z just better chill |
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Before i tell 'em how i feel and that's real |
|
(chorus) |
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Yeah, uh, break it down |
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All y'all busta ass *****z |
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Do it like this, 1995 |
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Uh, yeah, come all y'all fake ass *****z to this |
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Goin' to the pad hit the beach up on the pager |
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Here comes korleone up the street in the mini-blazer |
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While the dominoes start to get shakin' |
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The same time that the barbique start bakin' |
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I don't eat swine, but i take a turkey burger |
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I can't fade worms, that books' full of terms |
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Homies pass by, some stop and conversate |
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On a gang a topics we start to debate |
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On why in black neighborhoods is always towed down |
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And white neighborhoods ain't one piece a trash 'round |
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So we gotta do for self and quit *****in' |
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Recycle black dollars so we can roll impalas |
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Every street got their own rap artist |
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On every cover every brother got a gun tryin' to look the hardest |
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But some deserve a slap 'cause they laid down they strap |
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When they hear that's a rap and that's real |
|
(chorus) |
