[Intro] 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 Fucka
[Outro] 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
Compositor: D.munchinson; John Jackson; T.lovelace