"Be Real" as written by and Darryl/smith Richardson Ii....
[Chorus: x2]
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 don't 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 twelve years old on thirteen skin and bones
That's 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
I'ma pimp, I spend my time makin' these hoes


Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself
A nigga thinkin' bout change contemplating my death
Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga
And the only way I can get away is weed and liquor
Fuckin' niggas up on the daily if they didn't pay me
Niggas 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' bitches
Nigga we was brave to die, don't be askin' me why
Ill rather hustle in the cold 'cause niggas sprayin' wit' fire
All the childhood fixin's 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 can't 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 'cause I made it by the grace of the god
I'm proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes
Bible in one hand, the other hand nine
Dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine
Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine

[Chorus: x2]

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"Be Real [Chopped & Screwed Album Version]" as written by Rico Love La Marquis Jefferson


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