Who's Hard?

[Chorus]

Who's hard?

Is it you? Is it me?

Is it the fact that you had your own faculty?

Is it the fact that you choke the double triple threes?

All of that don't mean shit to me

For real

Who's hard?

Is it you? Is it me?

Is it the fact that you had your own faculty?

Is it the fact that you choke the double triple threes?

All of that don't mean shit to me

For real, for real

[Verse 1]

I been in this Hip-Hop game for mad

I sat back and watch cornballs go for bad

Sorta sad, actually, a damn shame

What the fuck ever happened to the game? Simple and plain

Most of the real are locked up on main

The while, more or less seem tame

Not want to name names

But you know who the fuck you are when you fake the game, word up

Now it's time to meet your maker, move faker

Like a Cee-lo game, I swear to god I'ma break ya

Take ya to the fourth then drop you off

And let them Brownfloor niggas take your fuckin' head off

And you'll be screamin' for CO

With a half a broken back and a bloody ass nose

I suppose this what happens when you fake to all

Someone from the yard always pulls your card

'Cause your persona knows no way

And faggots like you always jump the gate

Let's set the whole world straight

Before you meet your death and it's too damn late

Why do you wish to perpetrate, when there's other jobs to do?

Like tables to wait, that better suit you

And I advise you to step two

'Cause when I bring the pain there'll be nothing you can do

You never did a bit in your life

Imagine you being another mans wife

You probably wait to late at night

And slit your wrist and take your own muthafuckin' life

For real (for real)

[Chorus]

Who's hard?

Is it you? Is it me?

Is it the fact that you had your own faculty?

Is it the fact that you choke the double triple threes?

All of that don't mean shit to me

For real

Who's hard?

Is it you? Is it me?

Is it the fact that you had your own faculty?

Is it the fact that you choke the double triple threes?

All of that don't mean shit to me

For real, for real

[Verse 2]

Still wanna be gangsta, still wanna claim thug?

My boxcutter flow make eyebrows spit blood

Fake gangsta get shot in the mug, wrapped in a rug

Weeks later your body discovered covered with bugs

Let's face it you ain't gangsta you straight up bitch

Real gangstas don't eat shit or drink piss

They fight for they right all day and all night

But the main thing is to keep they game tight

New jacks come around wanna take my spot

But on my block I'm the cock so you must be the twat

Big Shug, feel me like forebearer hands

Or get punched in your mouth and earth slammed

Or get shot in the ass and stuffed in a trash can

Word life, I'm reppin' it hard for Murdapan

[Outro]

Yeah yeah there's too many you niggas out there fakin'

You understand we watchin' all of y'all

And personally, I'll slap the jack rabbit bunny hoppin' shit out of your punk ass

Don't think twice about it, you understand?

And all them fake corny niggas you rollin' with

I don't trust 'em

So when they make moves I'ma bust 'em

That's how I'm feelin'

Fuck it, we keepin' it real, we keepin' it underground

You niggas ain't hard, the fuck outta here

For real, for real