You better keep your hand on them heats
And live what you sayin´ on them beats
Real talk..

[Verse 1]

They ain´t walkin´ the walk, they just talkin´ the talk
Some people look at me as the real talk of New York
I ain´t these like these niggaz who be feinin´ to front
Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt
Look I don´t be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front
In somethin´ that you seen and you want
But otherwise I´m cool wit´ it
They say only the ones who never had gon´ get and act a fool wit´ it
Everybodys´ gangsta through the promotion
Even if they raised in a house wit´ a view of the ocean
The bangers is growin´ upset
Cuz´ ya´ ass is on t.v. throwin´ up sets

And you know you ain´t like that
But you´ll say that you is
Go and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its his
You ain´t a pimp or you wouldn´t go to dinner wit´ groupies
Ain´t a baller cuz´ you wouldn´t put spinners on hoopties

[Hook 2X]
1-2-3; you don´t really wanna fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin´ wit a gangsta nigga

[Verse 2]
How can niggaz say they be on the other side of the seas´

Where the steering wheels are on the other side of the v´s
And the home look like the spot on the other side of the c´s
When they ain´t never been on the other side of the p´s
I ca´ see through em´, ya tents are too light
Every sentence you write is far from the truth
You wanna be that nigga you are in the booth
But you ain´t got the heart, the scars, or the proof
And now you flash ya´ shirt tag in our grill
But I´m hearin´ you was a dirtbag before the deal
You walk around talkin´ how every dime sucked
When they don´t even speak to you, nevermind fucked you
Ya´ hood sayin´ don´t come back
Step foot in here, and they gon´ put you where you won´t come back

Dog, how the fuck you gon´ have keys in ya´ house
When ya´ moms´ won´t even give you keys to the house loser

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Nigga you in the mirror, checkin´ what your make ups´ lookin´ like
Tryina fool the world wit´ a Jacob look-a-like
Jiving like you hold stacks
But ya´ car is ten years old homie, ya´ drivin´ in a throwback
They gon´ strip you, have you runnin´ naked next
Without security you like unprotected sex
You ain´t never gon´ finger a trigger
All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga

I real recognize real, you´d be a john doe
You livin´ in a closet and call it a condo
I don´t member you as a slinger that was on the bench
Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments
Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans
Nah, I think its these hip hop con mans
Studio gangstas is played out now
This ain´t the eighties, battle raps´ll get you layed out
Fucka

[Hook]

[Outro]
1-2-3; and any time that you on them streets
You better keep your hand on them heats
And live what you sayin´ on them beats

Real talk
Real talk
It´s really really really really real talk
It´s really really really really real talk
It´s really really really really real talk
It´s really really really really real talk