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Ice-T - Return of the Real lyrics
Thanks to jostmatt@bluewin.ch for these lyrics. Yo, what's up with all these niggas On these muthafuckin records talkin all this bullshit (Man, I don't know about these niggas out here Them other sucker-ass niggas, them old fake-ass bitches) I ain't tryin to hear that shit, man These bitches ain't players, man (Yeah man You know these niggas out here been fakin for years, man I'm glad my nigga Ice comin with that HP shit That high-powered shit..) [ VERSE 1 ] Peace to my street niggas movin that weight Much love to my comrads who's out in upstate Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game Street fame, I got much that's in touch with my name Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame nigga trippin Wake up my posse, interrup the Rmy-sippin Four in your back and keep bailin Listen to the HK wailin and your vital signs failin Everyone that ever met me knows I work bitches like niggas, pimp niggas like hoes Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it For ten years I been connected to the top of this Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin this Too busy rollin off them fat chrome rims And niggas who trip get sung hymns We crash clubs and security shits Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips Crazy muthafuckas lickin shots in doors Leavin suckers' bodies bleedin over nightclub floors You don't want none, son, stay gone Break north when I come and you might live long Yeah, my face kickin treble, you're just a pebble You're gettin rocked, yo E, cock the glock And let these niggas know, yo, that the west don't play none Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun You broke ill and you cold fucked up Now you're bleedin through your fingers while you're holdin your gut For real [ CHORUS ] So get your money how you want to, friend But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win (Return of the real) the game of life is only fake and true But it's all about the dollars when the day is through [ Hot Dollar ] (Cause the pimps don't get no bigger Than these here niggas) It's the return of the real (These muthafuckas best to get to recognize Before I gets to chastizin Cause see, the shit all ties in It's just some of that pimp, player, hustler shit Ice-T been around for a while now Nigga was gangbangin when gangbangin wasn't even cool, nigga What you know about that shit?) [ VERSE 2 ] I go deep into the street life's anatomy A nigga take me out - yo, what a upset that'd be And if I fall I fall on cushions, ??? Hittin niggas up with the Tec and watch the blood gushin I see your videos, a 100 niggas in it you don't know Framed in the lens, bought friends Who really got your back, nigga, check it out You really possess like zero street clout (think about) The only place you're safe is in the studio Yellin in the mic, you'se a bitch, that's right I take a nigga like you and make him prostitute cute So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot You front hardcore, but I don't feel ya Kids from my hood'll take your punk ass and peel ya Let me check my Rolex quick because time's money Squintin from the Pavet face because it's kinda sunny Skinnin the top back, flossin the rag and the thing Feelin the sun, backin off of my pinky ring Hittin the 'Shaw with my niggas and clown Lift the ass, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground But most of the time you can't see a nigga Deep in the archives parlayin new ways to get my bank bigger [ CHORUS ] [ Hot Dollar ] (As I slides up out the do' Gots to give a special props shout out to that nigga the O.G. Got muthfuckin Red in the house [Name] and the muthafuckin ringleader of funk, DJ Ace Hot Dollar's up in this muthafucka If you didn't know Count your muthafuckin blessings and handcuff your hoe You know what I'm sayin? It's all good for my hood Comp-town in the muthafuckin house Nigga don't know well I tell ya like this West Hollywood Hills That's the deal, fool You know I know the rules..) |
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