The Diplomats - I Really Mean It lyrics

Oh, oh oh Major, don't go!
Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Freekey Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, uhh killa, uh

Y'all niggas dreamed it, I've seen it
Body warm, heart anemic (I really mean it)
Coke, a nigga steamed it, fiends I leaned 'em
Beamer leaned it (I really mean it)
Guns, really beaming, rarely miss
What's really good?
Bikes, wheelie and creaming
(I really mean it)
I'm a, genius, Papadopoulos, never lenient
On your Zenith (I really mean it) Killa
Bag me more mutts, they actually all ducks
Caddy more trucks, it's Daddy Warbucks
And you Orphan Annie, ma
Take off your panties
Seat soft and sandy (I really mean it)
Yeah, let's get lost in candy
I got lofts in Boston
Austin, flossing, of course, miami
Reno, Nevada, sip piña colada
Mama, I've seen all the Prada
(I really mean it) i rock, Mauri, Fennix
Road to glory, seen it, you seen it
(I really mean it)
The game: abuse it, it's pain in music
But this year, wrist wear remains the bluest
I get lame and lose it, beef? Came to do it
Aim and shoot it
Flames turn your brains to fluid
Y'all just kids, see what I just did
Take a couple bars off, let Just live

Yeah, now that's powerful music man
You need to pop something and roll something
(I really mean it)
Killa, we did it man, I got your back forever
Dipset (I really mean it) and them lames
We pop them sideways and drag them faggots
(I really mean it)

Okay, we back in, mami listen
(I really mean it)
Ayo, lock my garage, rock my massage
Fuck it, bucket by Osh Kosh Bgosh
Golly I'm gully, look at his galoshes
Gucci, gold, platinum plaque collages
From collabos, ghostwriting for assholes
Wanna use my brain, they give Killa mad dough
It's all good, increase Killa cash flow
Increase my fame, that's why Killa smash hoes
You'll get side swiped, look at my life
First movie ever, merked out Mekhi Phife
And papi got jerked out of pies twice
Dipset, we working with five dice
Cee-lo and craps, C notes and stacks
I send bodies with "read this note" attached
"Ya young'n fucked with boys in the hood"
Gave her a son like Ricky
From Boyz N the Hood
On the couch bloody, old lady sighing
Wifey screaming (I really mean it)
Pissy little baby crying, fucked up man
Shit, there you seen it (I really mean it)
Fam, man, you terry cloth
That mean you very soft
Gravy Mercedes, add the cranberry sauce
Killa

Yeah, gangstas ride man
Flex we got you, guns up (I really mean it)
And all my ladies, man
The ghetto's a saditty
I need you, I want you (I really mean it)
Oh, pop something, roll something
Get twisted, that's on Jim, nigga
(I really mean it)
Harlem! Man we here to stay
It's nothing left to say man
(I really mean it)
Eastside, and as for that lame man, Nasir
I ain't even gon' say your last name
'Cause that's mine, I catch you
You know what it is you faggot!
I ain't gon' get to hype on you man
We gon' bury ya
Holla! See if you 'bout it, 'bout it
'Cause we is (I really mean it) nYC!