The Shit Is Real (DJ Premier Remix)

[Intro] Yeah This is goin' out to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin' All the real niggas, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, California La Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you're from, youknowhatumsayin' Yeah [Verse 1] This story takes place, back in the South Bronx Where at the age of fourteen I was already to knockin' off punks (yeah!) And suckers were scared to death Every time I walked by I hear them niggas take their last breath (ahhh..) See, I just didn't give a fuck And if you had a sheep skin leather bomber you was getting stuck (word!) That was the way it was One day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cous See, something was fucked up back then No matter what the fuck I did, I never had no ends And my moms was on welfare Aiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never there So what the fuck was I had to do? I'm sick and tired to being the bummiest nigga out the crew I gotta get mine, I gotta get cash I see an old man, I'm gonna rob him with the quick-fast Gimme your motherfucking loot, papi I'm going to get paid and can't a damn thing stop me See, I'm tired of this poor shit And who the cops? Well they can suck my motherfuckin' dick Cause all them niggas ever do is harass That's why I get glad when I hear somebody smoked that ass Just to let ya know how I feel, word 'em up The fuckin' shit is real [Hook (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)] Aiyyo it's real Aiyyo the shit is real The fuckin shit is real Aiyyo it's real [Verse 2] Now I'm sixteen and there's a brand new scene I'm makin' mad loot, gettin' paid off the dope fiends Keeping shit in checking order And my main man Tone was fucking everybody else's daughter See everybody knew in town That Joe and Tone had shit locked down And a nigga wouldn't test me It seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me But the shit would never stick I make one phone call and be out right quick Cause Uncle Dan had my back And now niggas getting jealous cause they know I'm living fat Talking shit around the way and on the block But never in my face cause they knew I pack the Glock And my crew is mad deep A buncha crazy Puerto Ricans, so ayeo don't sleep And all you bitch ass niggas know the deal, check it out The fucking shit is real [Hook] [Verse 3] Let me let ya know why I made this song Brothers can't deal with the real, word is bond I'm sick and tired of these fake-ass niggas Saying that they're catching bodies when they never pulled a trigger I know your style, I've seen it before You wearing army suit, now you think you're hardcore Drinking on your 40's, smoking on your blunts Can't afford a chain so you wear gold fronts yeah You fakin' the funk, kid And you'd be getting it up the ass if you ever did a fucking bid It's time to separate the real from the phony The name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know me I come equipped with the ruff shit Nowadays I can't believe the bull rappers come up with And all y'all bitch ass niggas know the deal, check it out The fucking shit is real [Hook] [Outro] Word up I wanna say peace to my peeps, the Beatnuts Messengers Of Funk, strictly Roots My man Four Flex, Zulu Nation Jazzy J in the house Diamond D, the whole Diggin' In The Crates crew And rest in peace to my man Tony Montana Aiyo, I'm out, word is bond The shit is real (*Premier cuts "Fat Joe's in town"*)