Forced To Do Dirt Lyrics - Vi: Return Of The Real - Ice T

Ice-T back in that ass 

Return of the real 

Muthafuckas fakin and frontin like they don't know what time it is 

Niggas on the streets ain't really got a muthafuckin choice 

Muthafucka 

(So niggas is forced to do dirt) --> Prodigy 

Born hustler 

I only run with real niggas who wear gold and jewels 

Diamond rings, strapped with tools 

I take no shorts cause I been in it for the long one, the strong one 

Gotta tell the truth, yo, half my niggas is on the run 

Street giant defiant to the laws 

That the white man made, nigga 

That's why we play, nigga 

A/k/a the street hustler from the Westside 

Too damn fly, too much finesse for the hoo ride 

I rather take a mark off smooth 

Cause the skilll of a hustler is to stick and move 

And make you say: "Damn, what's his name? 

Got to give a nigga props cause the kid got game" 

Mad game, fool, I base my hustle not on strength 

But think, you say 'the liqor store', I say 'brinks' 

Cause my mind's on the massive roll of the dice 

The magnitude of my game's insane, precise 

So now you're mad cause I got money and you don't 

The hustlers win, the busters won't 

What can I say, you can't come out and play 

With the real ones, dig this 

You'll get broke with the quickness 

I don't gamble, I cheat when it's on 

Two g's on the table, two in my palm 

And if I spill up, I pull the nickel .25 strap 

Then the place gets flat and then I'm out the back 

With my niggas and them 4's on thangs 

And if I really want to floss I flex my Bentley wings 

Damn, over your head, got a problem 

Keepin lyrics down to earth so normal niggas can solve em 

But the game's extreme so quit your high beams 

And increase the light, now can you see me, you might 

If you ever been to jail or shot, sold rocks 

I'm talkin 'bout weight down like movin ki's and pounds 

But every nigga in the hood ain't fly 

Light-skinned or dark, they're 90% marks 

Straight vics and they got money to give 

Then without em tell, me how the hell a hustler lives.. 

I got no love for a lame 

I use my strategy from crack to rap, no shame 

And now instead of cooking some ki's 

I'm flippin million dollar ??? call em wack MC's 

But suckers got it twisted, they missed it 

Wastin they life when yo, they mentally gifted 

The streets ain't the only fuckin hustle in town 

You gotta get in where you fit in, gotta stay way down 

But a buster is a buster for life 

He makes excuses why his ass ain't pay 

That shit's played 

Cash rules everything around me, kid 

I hit a 50'000 lick and never did no bid 

Cause I'm bent on a come-up and my shit stays tight 

How many fake gangsta rappers will I hear tonight? 

It don't matter cause the real don't care 

You know I'ma gonna get mine, so I'ma let em get theirs 

But I know in the heart what's true 

So if you listen very closely, maybe you will too 

My mind's blown off Armani suits 

Pavet medaillons, [Name] boots 

Cristal and steak, shrimp big as your hand 

I bought a silk robe and it's from Siam 

This jam's for the hoods and thugs 

Pimps and hoes, the slingers of drugs 

Hustlers and thieves, cons and crooks 

Bookers and sharks, muthafuck the marks 

Nigga