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    On them streets
    You better keep your hand on them heats
    And live what you sayin' on them beats
    Real talk..

    [Verse 1]
    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 niggaz that 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

    [Hook 2X]
    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

    [Verse 2]
    How can niggaz 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


    [Verse 3]
    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 blow 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 fingered a trigger
    All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga
    If real recognize real, you'd be a john doe
    You livin' in a closet but 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


    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

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