Buddha Monk, The Streets, P.G - The Real lyrics
[Buddha Monk, The Streets, P.G - The Real lyrics]
Hurry up, let's go, take all his riches
That's what I used to learn
From these older misses
You gotta, stop, cock and roll with mister
Flip, flop, my robes from dub to misses
Only run with real dudes
With the guns for sticking
Big dicks for sticking
Fat tongues for licking
The type you like, she can have all my riches
Pretty Girl, you thorough
Cancel all my business
Like to stick my pretty two's
But known to get stitches
Since a young girl
I've been grown up figures little older now
And I'm getting grandfather figures
More grands, than the grams
My poppa was sniffing laid up, slumped up
Is how we leaving these niggas
Turned up, cooked up
Like turnips in momma's kitchen
Burned up, like niggas banging dirty bitches
There's many ways, with a kiss
Blazing niggas
Real recognize real, we known to spill
With hoes and fake niggas like Kodak film
(Kill tracks, murk beats
And we'll take your deal)
It's real, kid, I'm that chick
Time to recognize who she runs with
Spit, bars, I'm so sweet
Gutter langer by the name of Streets
Son get soaked when by myself
Heavyweight bitch, I hold the belts
I, rip tracks, yes, she's hot
I, run them Streets, I run blocks
I, keep my heat, don't fuck with cops, no
Tell Diddy, I won't stop, no
Time to cop, so step your game up
The reason why these fellas open
From rags to roaches, we've been had though
Been smoked that 'dro, beef for a ho
Holla, come on now, bitch, I know my work
Who you talking to bitch, yo, I sold myself
Been enemy of the state since I was born
Trying to make some moves like Farrakhan
Trying to see the world before I'm gone
Spitting over Buddha's beats in Brooklyn
Yo, I'm caging niggas, I'm flaming niggas
Like drag queens in parades on Thanksgiving
Niggas uh, it's real with no deal
I'm hiding man for niggas
Like mixtapes in the hood, over instrumentals
Why, yo, we move in silence
Nowhere, to run, nowhere to hide
Bitch, keep that thing, by my sidekick
You jack and laid off to bust a nut
Uh, feel it in your guts, you know what's up
And what's what
Get bucked, fired up, light it up
It's a must
Cuz, we be the chicks, niggas cannot touch
Chicken mimic how we spit, stop riding us
That's what I used to learn
From these older misses
You gotta, stop, cock and roll with mister
Flip, flop, my robes from dub to misses
Only run with real dudes
With the guns for sticking
Big dicks for sticking
Fat tongues for licking
The type you like, she can have all my riches
Pretty Girl, you thorough
Cancel all my business
Like to stick my pretty two's
But known to get stitches
Since a young girl
I've been grown up figures little older now
And I'm getting grandfather figures
More grands, than the grams
My poppa was sniffing laid up, slumped up
Is how we leaving these niggas
Turned up, cooked up
Like turnips in momma's kitchen
Burned up, like niggas banging dirty bitches
There's many ways, with a kiss
Blazing niggas
Real recognize real, we known to spill
With hoes and fake niggas like Kodak film
(Kill tracks, murk beats
And we'll take your deal)
It's real, kid, I'm that chick
Time to recognize who she runs with
Spit, bars, I'm so sweet
Gutter langer by the name of Streets
Son get soaked when by myself
Heavyweight bitch, I hold the belts
I, rip tracks, yes, she's hot
I, run them Streets, I run blocks
I, keep my heat, don't fuck with cops, no
Tell Diddy, I won't stop, no
Time to cop, so step your game up
The reason why these fellas open
From rags to roaches, we've been had though
Been smoked that 'dro, beef for a ho
Holla, come on now, bitch, I know my work
Who you talking to bitch, yo, I sold myself
Been enemy of the state since I was born
Trying to make some moves like Farrakhan
Trying to see the world before I'm gone
Spitting over Buddha's beats in Brooklyn
Yo, I'm caging niggas, I'm flaming niggas
Like drag queens in parades on Thanksgiving
Niggas uh, it's real with no deal
I'm hiding man for niggas
Like mixtapes in the hood, over instrumentals
Why, yo, we move in silence
Nowhere, to run, nowhere to hide
Bitch, keep that thing, by my sidekick
You jack and laid off to bust a nut
Uh, feel it in your guts, you know what's up
And what's what
Get bucked, fired up, light it up
It's a must
Cuz, we be the chicks, niggas cannot touch
Chicken mimic how we spit, stop riding us