That's Real Lyrics - Az

I holds it down for the convicts that live in a box 

And them little grimy niggaz that live in them spots 

Venimous plots, real nine [?] glocks 

Spin with the drop 

Hammer cocks, sent you a shot 

Brooklyn motha fucka, we blend with the blocks 

Live niggaz, type to spend 10 on a watch 

Face lift it 

Hit it straight nuttin' to taste wit it 

Fuck shots 

Cop bottles, whole case wit it 

Street war 

Niggaz don't beef no more 

See the kill for real or don't eat no more 

Sleep no more 

Hollow tips'll eat you raw 

Straight through the right cheek of your jaw (blaow) 

Lets get it on 

With the guns drawn 

Ride or die 

No whats wrong 

Gettin' shitted on 

My reply 

Cut you up with some shit that'll tear your soul 

Wrap up if you feel the cold 

That's real 

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My' spit from my block men 

Everyday ya upstate gettin' boxed in 

Stick a (marriage?) through the gate when they locked in 

You can hear 'em when they break when they boxed in 

That's real 

My spit from my street men 

All day, smuggle yay pull ya Jeep's in 

Never play where you lay we ain't sleepin' 

Spot clean, FED's dumb let 'em creep in 

That's real 

Photos 

I break laws when I want to 

Jaws when I want to 

Everybody, get them on the floor when I come through 

Know the rules not to move when I come to jam you 

Two hammers 

One in my hand one in the tan room 

The General 

I could care less if there's ten of you 

I'm built for stress 

Do what few men can do 

Send a few into you 

Injured you, you injured two 

Mack 11 ya hit your Chevy 

Sent it off in his inertubes 

Mack pop the pistol well 

Cop fish scales 

Used to pop a pistol quick 

Cock that [?] shit 

Gun still on the missile tip 

Hit that main tissue shit 

Kidney, lungs, heart, spleen, brain tissue shit 

I hit you niggaz where it hurt at 

Where you little niggaz they dirt at 

Where they pump they work at 

Recognize when the motha fuckin' truth in here 

Beanie Sieg hottest thing in the booth this year 

That's real 

My spit from my block men 

Everyday ya upstate gettin' boxed in 

Stick a (marriage) [?] through the gate when they locked in 

You can hear 'em when they break when they boxed in 

That's real 

My spit from my street men 

All day, smuggle yay pull ya Jeep's in 

Never play where you lay we ain't sleepin' 

Spot clean, FED's dumb let 'em creep in 

That's real 

Ya little mind and the things that it conjure up 

Even worse when you Henney'd and Ganja'd up 

Could see it now 

Feet duck taped, arms in cuffs 

Your conscience fucked 

Pissey be on your bluff 

I roll with niggaz that'll clap you up 

Get locked and wait for you to get knocked and whack you up 

Stick a motha fuckin' sword in ya 

Make everybody on the block see the motha fuckin' broad in ya 

Arm the [?] 

Niggaz need to bomb wit us 

Dawn wit us 

Bust of they chronic wit us 

Quiet Money, Roc-A-Fella nigga arm your pups 

Play the game before your palms get touched (nigga) 

I (spiffin?) niggas doin' a long time 

All day, could see new spades and keep a blade on a phone line 

Keep the guards payed so they got they own line 

Hustle on the block still make they own wine 

That's real 

My spit from my block men 

Everyday ya upstate gettin' boxed in 

Stick a (marriage?) through the gate when they locked in 

You can hear 'em when they break when they boxed in 

Tha'ts real 

My spit from my street men 

All day, smuggle yay pull ya Jeep's in 

Never play where you lay we ain't sleepin' 

Spot clean, FED's dumb let 'em creep in 

That's real