Be Real lyrics

Song information

Artist: Lil Scrappy
Album: The King Of Crunk & Bme Recordings Present: Lil Scrappy

Lyrics

[Chorus: 2x]
If you a thug my nigga then 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 all I seen was sales
Moma stepped then so we niggas stayed in out of jail
Then came robbin' and kickin' in doors then went from a half to sellin' ten o's
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 on da grind like a damn nigga would do
Talkin' bout pimpin, o she did that too
I got robbed the cobba hoe, nigga took all my loot
And I was just 12 years old on 13 which made me bold thats why I think my heart is so cold
I gives a fuck about a 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

[Chorus: 2x]

[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
Only way I can get away is weed and liquor
Fukin' niggas up on the daily if they didn't pay me
Niggas 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 when the streets brought heat that's when da drama was fed
Moma swung on a nigga, I stabbed the bitch in the head (nigga)
I don't scratch my head unless it itchs
An I don't smoke unless I'm bustin at cha hatin bitchs
Nigga we was bred to die, dont be askin me why
Ill rather hustle in the cold cuz niggas playin' wit fire
All the childhood issues wit tha devil out to getcha
Got my mind on my gun and I'm a shell pull a pistol

[Chorus: 2x]

[Verse 3: bo hagon]
You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, ya mind body and soul and leave you in a ditch cold wit no shoes and clothes
You wait for the trash collector
Follow me now 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 sound that I cant forget
Ran home watched cartoons and ain't said shit
And to this day moma thought I was up at da park(par)
While she was at the church praisin' the lord
I made through amazingly unscarred
She had to be prayin' because I made it by the grace of the god
A product of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes
Bible on one hand, the other hard ion(dope)
Dreamin' of naming streets and boulevards mine
Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine

[Chorus - 2x]