| Lyrics: | Master P talking)
Yeah, huh, my boy Young Bleed in here, C-Loc in here, an you know
the
colonel MP up in here
Chorus: Young Bleed
Nigga we gonna
keep it real dawg, hustiln high, cuz live niggas keep it
real young, can we keep it real
Loc? Tryin not to spill no blood, if
it's real show a nigga love, nigga.
Verse 1- Young Bleed
Nigga it burns for gold that rose before me that was fakin' the
funk,
long an behold I come to get it, so I'm takin' it in chunks, out to
lunch for
brunch, maggots gonna munch in perpendicular, order money, man
slaughter, I write this shit
thats good for you, how many mutha fuckas
must get dealt wit? Before someone kick down yo
door, an leave you
helpless, is you feelin' my fear, feelin' my vibe, at the same time, I
dirty my theroy, clickin my tribe, tryin' ta claim mine, hush,
what you discovered
don't shake the rictor, my nigga, my nerve, go get
the camera, get the picture, I'm laughin'
at y'all for tryin' to ball,
wit yo mug on me, movin' a million mutha fuckas strappin murder
machine,
I come dainty an benidine, so gimme mine, sippin great wine, polishin
pussy
thats genuine, paralized to the format still smokin' blunts for
days, an mama's theroies an
ways, got me prepared ha, niggas ain't
ready, but if it wasn't for the grace of God, they
say you couldn't live
life against all odds, I know it's hard, but it's real though, I'm
'bout
ta peel out, everytime I touch somethin', what ya feel yo, nigga, give a
fuck
if you bigga.
Chorus
Verse 2- C-Loc
It be a piper
push poundses, wit playas who wanna rise, pick the pen
then ??? my rhyme, eh, so now I can
make a leagal paper in this rap
game, at the first used to hear that boy playin' wit steel
toys, now I'm
worse, can't break the curse, y'all laugh until I die, comin' from the
dirt, so watch a young hustler rise an shine, like the ghetto
mastermind, (bout it bout it)
let em know, why do, doin' all that lyin'
got the nation down to ???, young mutha fucka
ain't do shit, can't stand
the heat get out the kitchen, before trigga fingas get to
itchin', getty
up, get into position to have twitchin', thinkin', damn, how could I
have mention, stop trippin', keep it real nigga.
Chorus x2
Verse 3-
Master P
Ughh! I live my life of a youngsta wit money, to many, bitches
pandhandlers, beggas an dummies, tryin ta, steal my soul, I mean suck me
dry, for these 20
inch rims on my ghetto ride, I couldn't lose my life
tryin' to keep my shoes, sell my soul
to the devil, in the ghetto you
lose, an ain't no, nigga gonna make it, fakin' the game, too
many blacks
behind bars for fortune and fame, I live, my life, readin' jail house
letters, I'm workin', money orders sendin weed through sweaters, I seen
mama's turn off of
hustlas and killas, my last supper probably gonna be
wit fiends an dealers. Ughhhh!
Chorus x3
(Master P talking during chorus)
C-Loc records,
keep it real, for all the records, keep it real Loc the
whole south, to the east, to the
west, to the middle, huh, we gonna keep
it real though, keep it real Loc |
