Trillville & Lil' Scrappy - Be Real | Текст песни

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• Trillville & Lil' Scrappy
• Be Real

Be Real

If you a thug my nigga be a thug

if you sell drugs my nigga then sell drugs

if you gonna rap about it be trill about it

and dont say shit if you can't BE REAL about it

Comin up as a child my city was hell

My moma was the best soldier, dad stayed in out of jail

I came robbin and kickin in doors then on my behalf and 17 old

But ya see shorty, My mom was a G

she made it real easy for my sista and me

She did what she had to do, and got out the damn crowd like a nigga would do

Talkin about pimpin, o she did that too

I got robbed and this old nigga took all my loot

And I was just 12 years old on 13 skin and bones thats why I thank my heart to sell dope

I gives a fuck about none of you hoes

All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold, and pressin these doors

(shorty) and cakin these hoes

Ima pimp, I spend my time makin these hoes

Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself

A nigga thinkin bout change comtemplating my death

Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga

and the only way I can get away is weed and liquor

Fukin niggaz up on the daily if they didnt pay me

Niggaz pullin guns on me damn near drove me crazy

Young nigga went to school just to sell some dope

A lil crazy ass nigga wit a knife in his coat

And in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially

moma swung on a nigga, I stabbed the bitch in her head (nigga)

I dun scratch my head unless it itchs

an I dun smoke unless I'm bustin at you hatin bitchs

nigga we was brave to die, dont be askin me why

Ill rather hustle in the cold cuz niggaz sprayin wit fire

All the childhood fixins wit tha devil inside the kitchen

Got my mind on my gun and I'm finna pull a pistol

You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, mind body and soul

And leave you in a ditch wit no shoes and clothes

Waitin for the trash collector

Follow me mind selector to the ghetto sector

They'll kill you over thirty dollars

I seen a man cut wit a dirty bottle blood squirted on his shirt and collar

I heard him holla a sound that I cant forget

Ran home, watched cartoons and ain't said shit

And to this day moma thought I was young, hungry, and poor (par)

while she was at the church praising the lord

I made through amazingly unscarred

She had to be praying cuz I made it by the grace of the god

Im proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes

Bible in one hand, the other hand 9

dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine

Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine

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