The Real

[P.G.] Hurry up, let's go, take all his riches That's what I used to learn from these older misses You gotta, stop, cock and roll with mister Flip, flop, my robes from dub to misses Only run with real dudes, with the guns for sticking Big dicks for sticking, fat tongues for licking The type you like, she can have all my riches Pretty Girl, you thorough, cancel all my business Like to stick my pretty two's, but known to get stitches Since a young girl, I've been grown up figures Little older now, and I'm getting grandfather figures More grands, than the grams, my poppa was sniffing Laid up, slumped up, is how we leaving these niggas Turned up, cooked up, like turnips in momma's kitchen Burned up, like niggas banging dirty bitches There's many ways, with a kiss, blazing niggas [Chorus 2X: P.G. (Streets)] Real recognize real, we known to spill (Get back, flip tracks, been known to peel) With hoes and fake niggas like Kodak film (Kill tracks, murk beats, and we'll take your deal) [Streets] It's real, kid, I'm that chick Time to recognize who she runs with Spit, bars, I'm so sweet Gutter langer by the name of Streets Son get soaked when by myself Heavyweight bitch, I hold the belts I, rip tracks, yes, she's hot I, run them Streets, I run blocks I, keep my heat, don't fuck with cops, no Tell Diddy, I won't stop, no Time to cop, so step your game up The reason why these fellas open From rags to roaches, we've been had though Been smoked that 'dro, beef for a ho Holla, come on now, bitch, I know my work Who you talking to bitch, yo, I sold myself [Chorus 2X] [Streets] Been enemy of the state since I was born Trying to make some moves like Farrakhan Trying to see the world before I'm gone Spitting over Buddha's beats in Brooklyn [P.G.] Yo, I'm caging niggas, I'm flaming niggas Like drag queens in parades on Thanksgiving, niggas Uh, it's real with no deal, I'm hiding man for niggas Like mixtapes in the hood, over instrumentals [Streets] Why, yo, we move in silence Nowhere, to run, nowhere to hide Bitch, keep that thing, by my sidekick You jack and laid off to bust a nut [P.G.] Uh, feel it in your guts, you know what's up, and what's what Get bucked, fired up, light it up, it's a must Cuz, we be the chicks, niggas cannot touch Chicken mimic how we spit, stop riding us [Chorus 4X]