Real Talk [123]

On them streets

You better keep your hand on them heats

And live what you sayin' on them beats

Real talk..

They ain't walkin' the walk, they just talkin' the talk

Some people look at me as the real talk of New York

I ain't these like these niggas who be feinin' to front

Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt

Look I don't be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front

In somethin' that you seen and you want

But otherwise I'm cool wit' it

They say only the ones who never had gon' get and act a fool wit' it

Everybodys' gangsta through the promotion

Even if they raised in a house wit' a view of the ocean

The bangers is growin' upset

Cuz' ya' ass is on t.v. throwin' up sets

And you know you ain't like that

But you'll say that you is

Go and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its his

You ain't a pimp or you wouldn't go to dinner wit' groupies

Ain't a baller cuz' you wouldn't put spinners on hoopties

1-2-3; you don't really wanna fuck wit me

Get in the way you could get yourself shot

Fuck the cops, you on my block

Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga

How can niggas say they be on the other side of the seas'

Where the steering wheels are on the other side of the v's

And the home look like the spot on the other side of the c's

When they ain't never been on the other side of the p's

I ca' see through em', ya tents are too light

Every sentence you write is far from the truth

You wanna be that nigga you are in the booth

But you ain't got the heart, the scars, or the proof

And now you flash ya' shirt tag in our grill

But I'm hearin' you was a dirtbag before the deal

You walk around talkin' how every dime sucked

When they don't even speak to you, nevermind fucked you

Ya' hood sayin' don't come back

Step foot in here, and they gon' put you where you won't come back

Dog, how the fuck you gon' have keys in ya' house

When ya' moms' won't even give you keys to the house loser

1-2-3; you don't really wanna fuck wit me

Get in the way you could get yourself shot

Fuck the cops, you on my block

Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga

Nigga you in the mirror, checkin' what your make ups' lookin' like

Tryina fool the world wit' a Jacob look-a-like

Jiving like you hold stacks

But ya' car is ten years old homie, ya' drivin' in a throwback

They gon' strip you, have you runnin' naked next

Without security you like unprotected sex

You ain't never gon' finger a trigger

All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga

I real recognize real, you'd be a john doe

You livin' in a closet and call it a condo

I don't member you as a slinger that was on the bench

Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments

Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans

Nah, I think its these hip hop con mans

Studio gangstas is played out now

This ain't the eighties, battle raps'll get you layed out

Fucka

1-2-3; you don't really wanna fuck wit me

Get in the way you could get yourself shot

Fuck the cops, you on my block

Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga

1-2-3; and any time that you on them streets

You better keep your hand on them heats

And live what you sayin' on them beats

Real talk

Real talk

It's really really really really real talk

It's really really really really real talk

It's really really really really real talk

It's really really really really real talk