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Be Real Lyrics - King Of Crunk & Bme Recordings Present: Lil Scrappy & Trillville Chopped & Screwed - Lil Scrappy

(Chorus: 2X) 

If you a thug my nigga be a thug 

if you sell drugs my nigga then sell drugs 

if you gonna rap about it be trill about it 

and dont say shit if you can't BE REAL about it 

 

(Verse 1) 

Comin up as a child my city was hell 

My moma was the best soldier, dad stayed in out of jail 

I came robbin and kickin in doors then on my behalf and 17 old 

But ya see shorty, My mom was a G 

she made it real easy for my sista and me 

She did what she had to do, and got out the damn crowd like a nigga would do 

Talkin about pimpin, o she did that too 

I got robbed and this old nigga took all my loot 

And I was just 12 years old on 13 skin and bones thats why I thank my heart to sell dope 

I gives a fuck about none of you hoes 

All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold, and pressin these doors 

(shorty) and cakin these hoes 

Ima pimp, I spend my time makin these hoes 

 

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(Chorus) 

 

(Verse 2) 

Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself 

A nigga thinkin bout change comtemplating my death 

Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga 

and the only way I can get away is weed and liquor 

Fukin niggaz up on the daily if they didnt pay me 

Niggaz pullin guns on me damn near drove me crazy 

Young nigga went to school just to sell some dope 

A lil crazy ass nigga wit a knife in his coat 

And in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially 

moma swung on a nigga, I stabbed the bitch in her head (nigga) 

I dun scratch my head unless it itchs 

an I dun smoke unless I'm bustin at you hatin bitchs 

nigga we was brave to die, dont be askin me why 

Ill rather hustle in the cold cuz niggaz sprayin wit fire 

All the childhood fixins wit tha devil inside the kitchen 

Got my mind on my gun and I'm finna pull a pistol 

 

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(Verse 3: Bohagen) 

You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, mind body and soul 

And leave you in a ditch wit no shoes and clothes 

Waitin for the trash collector 

Follow me mind selector to the ghetto sector 

They'll kill you over thirty dollars 

I seen a man cut wit a dirty bottle blood squirted on his shirt and collar 

I heard him holla a sound that I cant forget 

Ran home, watched cartoons and ain't said shit 

And to this day moma thought I was young, hungry, and poor (par) 

while she was at the church praising the lord 

I made through amazingly unscarred 

She had to be praying cuz I made it by the grace of the god 

Im proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes 

Bible in one hand, the other hand 9 

dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine 

Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine 

 

(Chorus - 2X) 

Writer: , ,

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