[automatic gunfire] [T. Waters:] Yo, this ain't a motherfuckin game nigga (Real shit) real shit (ride out) ride out (Ride out) RIDE OUT (ride out) RIDE
puttin' shit on my name I'd probably be somewhere outta town puttin' shit in the game for fame many cats be forgettin' where they came real niggas blaze
feelin' for whoever test me, pity for whoever second guess me Know how to ?manhand'? it's real as it get Feelin' my shit, straight through the cealin' with this Bet your block
'all was roofin the rocks Other niggaz shoe tops, only youth on the block You dig me - movin in tops and movin these rocks You get it - we movin them blocks
Chorus] Make this money, take this money (let's get it) Ain't no way you can take this from me (let's get it) Ain't shit funny (uhh) shake it honey (let
I keep extra heat on the seat, when I'm flossing one deep Why I'm on that other shit, that spit it for my brother shit That hardcore gutter shit, yeah
do, turn your back on your whole crew I shoulda knew, you changed when you hit that lick You own a brick, and now you thinking you the shit I must admit
guns flame (booa!) And bust fifty shots through land and wood grain [Mike D] Nigga, Nigga, Nigga that's me! (That Mike D!) On the trill you dummies! Froze up the whole block
they mouth, 'cause they just talkin' shit When it comes to droppin' science, I'm the man you can't knock out The heavyweight champ that'll take your whole block
cause we stackin' our chips Graduated from brown herb to the finest shit (Gotta make 'em understand) - break they backs now (Gotta make 'em understand) - pound-pound [Gangsta D] Gangsta D
ll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alazhay with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene
play the man Ran me down the block with my glass in my hand Damn, I hope it don't spill Nigga chill, shit is real cock back my steel Still runnin' from
ordinary, we watch you get buried That's a real nigga for ya Get mad do a quarter flip the script, and rip your lawyer Spit at the D.A. cause fuck what
, as you can see It's a small thang through and true What could I do? Real homies help ya get through, And coming new, he'd do tha same thang if he could
more respect from the mutha-fuckin' dope man The Grammy's and the American music shows pimp us like hoes They got dough but they hate us though You better keep your mind on the real shit
to the young thugs, the have-nots (you know) Little bad motherfuckers from the block (that's right) Them niggaz that's thirteen and fourteen Drivin Cadillacs, Benzes and shit
Doug E. Fresh show, with Ricky D and Red Alert was puttin in work, with Chuck Chill Had my homies on the hill gettin ill, when shit was real Went out
nah nigga I was stressed Had me creepin 'round corners, homie sleepin in my vest Shit, I'm like a hostage on this troubled block, call the cops A thug
