Keep It Real

Yo believe I paid the dues man I started in the game

With my man's on Linden and Devane we drinking ghetto champagne

Slinging rocks and packing glocks on the blocks

It's early in the morning I'm selling tumbs from my Reeboks

Tres, nicks and dimes I write rhymes

But the ghetto times they got the cheeks doing crimes

The street life yeah that's the only life I know

Where sling rocks bust shots and push yeah yo

Sit on crates keep their backs against gates

Every man is insane he's got a brain like Norman Bates

Timberland boots ski hats we pack gats

Carry across town because we tapping niggas hoodrats

But they don't want the family

See a south side Jamaica Queen fellas get down man

Listen so what your crew is X rated

Peoples if you violate you getting violated

Come on and keep it real, this is saying

That the lost boy and group home fam want it all what would you do

And if you feel that you'se a real soldier from the street

Throw your hands in the air we salute you

Bounce it up town, bounce it down south

Bounce, bounce it up town, bounce it down south

I had a messed up childhood the head is mad nappy

I need money in a snap gee kid

I'm trying to blow like Papi

Fat cat the street life is where it's at

Peeling caps so yo we got to stay strapped

Terrified 'cause the crew from the south side is bustin'

No question I keep my hear in braids, Taliq got dreads

Hangin' out in the reds wearing Levi's and Pro-Keds

Pouring beer on the curb for the dead

I had to bring drama to some powder head

Hey yo cut the music down

Yo half the world thought the album failed in this '94 and it's on

I'm smoking weed in '96 with my peeps

Jetting from the police 'cause police they'se a bunch of creeps

I'm testing off the new burners in the park

We sleep during the day and creep when it's dark

I once had to cry when I seen Tyrone die

This black on black crime I cram to understand why

Baby girls having kids in their teens

Young fellows baggy jeans slinging crack to the crack fiends

That's the type of lifestyle that I lead

With my fams on the corner drinking beers and smoking weed

Believe I been through all the struggles and the pain

I'm ripping out my hairs but I can't get to my brain

I want the gold teeth and chains

I hustle with Timberland boots and rainsuits when it rains

Fools make your moves pay dues

Give up your cheese you loose my baby boy need shoes

Stepping to the cheeks you made an error

You been to the house of pain now welcome to my yard of terror

What you think I'm some sucker?

Word to him I stomp you out with my tim chukkas

Who, who you stepping to the lost boy crew

Boy you stomped that ass is through

Come on and keep it real, this is saying

That the lost boy and group home fam want it all what would you do

And if you feel that you'se a real soldier from the street

Throw your hands in the air we salute you

Bounce it up town, bounce it down south

Bounce, bounce it up town, bounce it down south

See we live the street life

I smoking blunts with the wife stay on point like a

'Cause every day on Rockaway is getting hotter

I can't do what a wanna I do what I gotta

Survive I might not be around in '95

See I was taught young to be strong and just strive

So nowadays we packing guns

We racking grimy hills for funds and I stash all my sons mons

A little man to look after

Taking rap as a joke but I see no laughter

To my man Charles Suitte and Big Tig

In Atlanta and V A

Come on and keep it real, this is saying

That the lost boy and group home fam want it all what would you do

And if you feel that you'se a real soldier from the street

Throw your hands in the air we salute you

Bounce it up town, bounce it down south

Bounce bounce it up town, bounce it down south