The Real Lyrics
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I don't know whats wrong wit these f**kaz, Alwayz winin alwayz cryin he ain't
doin this fo me she ain't doin dat. Motha f**ka get wit me i try to teach a
motha f**ka somthin and then they just jump in here talk about goin AWOL who
the f**k goin AWOL man i let these motha f**kaz in here, then they go to the
f**kin white man and sell they fukin sole for a couple o bitchez and a blunt
man. How we supposed to respect that whoadie, if any f**kin producers runnin
they mouth man i'll pay fo the equip met a motha f**ka couldn't even make beef
fo a hundred and two dollaz man. show a nigga how ta deal some papa, and dats
what i get in return man. How u talkin bout u ain't wit no limit no more? y
don't u bring bak the tank then whoadie? You ain't gawta bring it bak to me man
i kno u scared, mail it to me. What r ya keepin it fo protection? What are ya
gonna do wit the tatoos punta? Cover it up wit a suit? Thats somthin that some
bitchez would do. Oh Yeah, when i met ya ya'll had nothin, now ya gone and ya
got nothin again punta. Ain't no real niggaz gone f**k wit ya. Sell all the
stories ya want to the inquirer i don't give a f**k. I don't have no image to
hold, you do, i'm from the streets, where you from? Wha u gone call the police
and press charges every time ya get ya a*s whooped? What kinda gangsta are u
punta?