B-Eazy — Who's Really Real ? lyrics

Lyrics

Hate it or love it, I’m the realest nigga getting it/
If you envision different, then listen while I’m spitting this/
I wasn’t born with silver spoons in my mouth/
In fact I had platinum!/
Cuz when in the womb, I started stacking/
Who other partner you know, steady making his doe?/
If you ain’t bout getting them figures/
I ain’t doing business with ya!/
Picture B with no cash/
Like Wilt C. with no ass/
Back of the plane, with no class/
Yeah right, I’m having that!/
Cash aside, hurt niggas pride/
Cuz I don’t have no best friends/
Stay with clients or associates, shit/
Or those I’m getting doe with/
T. Jones told me/
As a youngin, look I didn’t like nobody holding me/
Imagine now I’m holder, what’ll happen if you close to me/
May you burn if you flirt with fire/
Acquire doe & live your life/
Yet learn to make your circle tighter/
Fire those who ain’t riding with you/
And keep your shit official/
Get your doe, then get some more/
Fa sho, B-Eazy's riding with ya!
Who’s Really Real?/
So many squeal & steady claim that they trill/
The real soldiers out there dying on the battlefield/
Who’s Really Real?/
Is it determined by how many niggas you shot?/
How many Glocks you done popped?/
How many cars you copped?/
Who’s Really Real?/
It ain’t about where you from/
It’s how you come/
I don’t care about your past & what you done, nigga!/
Who’s Really Real?/
Some niggas flirt with death/
Fiending for wealth/
Look in the mirror, nigga ask yourself/
Who’s Really Real?
We just had the deadliest day in Iraq/
So I called my brother just to hear him talk back/
You’d think he’d be safe, stationed in SC, an A.F. Mechanic/
But with double-digits dying in chopper crashes, it’s frantic!/
God Damn It! The death toll? 3,000!/
Same number as the people died in New York/
This nigga Bush is wildin!/
Yet smiling, while soldiers dying in a turf war/
But what for?/
Bush yelling out «Fore!"/
While wheeling round on a golf course/
Shit and I’m from Texas, nigga!/
The same state executing more convicts/
Than the Windy City’s crime rate/
And niggas dying everyday for cheese/
The same war up in these streets/
Is the same war they having overseas!/
Don’t get it twisted, that gang banging is real!/
The 1st nigga that showed me a blood sign got killed!/
Few shots to the back of his head/
They watched his blood spill, and for what?/
Another soldier dead in the field
Who’s Really Real?
So many squeal & steady claim that they trill/
The real soldiers out there dying on the battlefield/
Who’s Really Real?/
Is it determined by how many niggas you shot?/
How many Glocks you done popped?/
How many cars you copped?/
Who’s Really Real?/
It ain’t about where you from/
It’s how you come/
I don’t care about your past & what you done, nigga!/
Who’s Really Real?/
Some niggas flirt with death/
Fiending for wealth/
Look in the mirror, nigga ask yourself/
Who’s Really Real?/
One man, One mind/
Few rhymes, New sound/
All I had to elevate Barge House of the ground!/
What you thought?/
Niggas would support by showing me love?/
But all I got was fake hugs/
Soft daps & shrugs/
Look at that arrogant little nigga/
Thinking he running shit/
Popping shit about him heading the city/
The next P. Diddy/
On the road to riches/
With a vengeance like 50/
Stuck to his MP and his keyboard/
Like «What the fuck is he on?"/
That little nigga writes & produces his sounds? Cool/
Plus mixes 'em down & still shitting on clowns, too?/
Nah, he could never make it/
Too long, I’ve felt the hatred/
My flow declared the greatest!/
Yet, you steady hating this?/
I went against the grain/
Gained little game from J/
Yet, similar to Jay/
I’m a do it my way!/
Stay regional if you may/
And watch me skate off to the top/
Blowing paper in 50 states/
I’m gone!