It's Real

[Chorus]

Keeping this real

Oh baby, keeping its real

Oh baby, keeping its real

Oh baby, keeping its real

Keeping its real

[Brotha Lynch Hung]

I put you up nigga, don't trip

You did your work for that mark and he left you in the dark

Skydiving in a bulletproof parachute

No remorse left you hanging, easy aiming lockdown

Shoot, the clock sounds two

One minute till I'm in it got a business

Fill they ass to death and get my scrilla in the corner none left

Shots out to my nigga in the penn getting switch

That whack bitch tried to stop a nigga from getting rich

You can dig a ditch but you won't find shit

Left you in flames, kept you roach, you can smell the shit when I

Approach

I be off that stanky sack of indonesia

It's an evidential, I leave you hungry eat your cheesa

Heard you was sweet like an almond joy

And I know you heard of me cause I'm a west coast bad boy

And I'm a sick nigga, sick made (made)

It gets real as I pull the pin out this grenade (nade)

Body parts like the movie old school oozie

Rip your arms out from the elbows nigga I smell those green leaves

Those sick thieves, a twenty sack of green weed

Is all I need, I make you bleed, I take your green

I know you got it from the ice cream man

Before you make that transaction I need to cash in my hand (god damn)

And if you don't we can do the murder man dance

Under any circumstance I'm a have your pans

[Chorus]

[Master P]

Brotha Lynch, I'm a make you a deal you can't refuse

My phone tapped the new code for hafts and hoes

Is t-shirts and tennis shoes from the yay I got the sneaker

65 for a shoe nigga you got the tweaker

Meet me down south, new orleans we bumping

I get this bitch jumping, you got the money

I got the g's, flip the keys and the oz's

We can blow some weed, and talk about that shit smoking some trees

But watch your back, keep your handlebar on cock

Too many federal agents pretend to be hustlers but really cops

Send across the border nigga like taco bell

Pulling a plane or boat, UPS, nigga I could get it there

I'm surrounded by cocktails, i mean hoes in mini skirts

Ain't no free dick out here, it's time to put in work

Put these hoes on a grayhound, fool if it's going down

And make em bring it back from my hood to your town

And it's all good, nigga it's like wax

And we can slang these records like motherfucking crack

And if they bumping we gotta keep them jumping

Cause it's all about the chedder, the cheese and the money

[Chorus]

[Mr. Serv-On]

A criminal tatted from front to back, always bout my jack

Doin a dope deal, forget to bring your strap, let it be fact

I blast first, I know no nigga that slugs in a hurst, who cursed

My dope and money

I'm leaving more blood stains then a stove

Be my wife, live your life

Till death do us part, start my gangsta bounce, 36 ounce

To a key, got this d.o. dick in your face to tell me the fuck else you

Got free

A thousand pounds of that skunk, ready to jump, smokin everything I

Can't hump

Master P and Brotha Lynch Hung

Let me serve some dip to these niggas with thier tongues out

Eighteen five in the south

Twenty four in the east, see my scrilla blow like geese

Cross my fingers for my wife, it's hot tonight

A murder case got away with a hundred g's and a couple of wild geeks

Headed west

Kapish, a hundred cluckers awaiting my arrival

Dirty survival

[Chorus]