Testi musica canzoni

YeahThis is goin' out ... to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin'All the real niggaz, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, CaliforniaLa Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you're from, youknowhatumsayin'YeahVerse One:This story takes place, back in the South BronxWhere at the age of fourteen I was ready to knockin' off punks (yeah!)And suckers were scared to deathEvery time I walked by I hit them niggaz take their last breath (ahhh..) See, I just didn't give a fuckAnd if you had a seed skin, I let the bomba you was getting stuck (word!) That was the way it wasOne day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cousSee, something was fucked up back thenNo matter what the fuck I did, I never had no endsAnd my moms was on walfareAiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never thereSo what the fuck was I had to doWhen sick and tired to bein' 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-fastGimme your motherfucking loot, popiI'm goin' to get paid and can't a damn thing stop meSee, I'm tired of this porshit And who the cops? Well they can suck my motherfuckin' dick!Cause all them niggaz ever do is harassThat's why I came glad when I heard somebody swooped that ass (*gunshot*)Just to let ya know how I feel, word'em upThe fuckin' shit is realChorus: (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)Aiyyo its realAiyyo the shit is realThe fuckin shit is realAiyyo its realVerse Two:Now I'm sixteen and there's a brand new sceneI'm makin' mad dupe, gettin' paid off the dope fiends (word)*?Deep in shit?* the checkin order, and my main man Tone was fuckin everybody else's daughterSee everybody knew in town that Joe and Tone had shit locked downAnd a nigga wouldn't test meIt seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me (yea!) But the shit would never stickI make one phone call and he'll be out by quick Cause uncle Tan had my backAnd now niggaz gettin' jealous cause they know I'm livin' fatTalkin shit around the way and over blockBut never in my face cause they knew I'd clap the glockAnd my crew is mad deepI'm punchin crazy puerto rican, so why yo don't sleep (word!)And all you bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it outThe fucking shit is realChorusVerse Three:Let me let ya know why I made this song (why!?)Brothers can't deal with the real, word is bondI'm sick and tired of these fake ass niggazSayin' that they're catchin' bodies when they never pulled a triggaI know ya style, I've seen it beforeYou wearin' army suit, now you think you're hardcoreDrinkin on your 40's, smokin on your bluntsThen afford a chainsaw, yo there ho fronts ,yeahYou fakin' the funk, kidAnd you'd be *?kidnapped?* the ass if you ever did a fucking bidIt's time to separate the real from the phonyThe name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know meI come from crypt with that ruff shitNowadays I can't believe the *?bull/boo?* rappers come up withAnd all y'all bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it outThe fuckin shit is realChorusOutro:Word up!I wanna say peace to my peeps, the BeatnutsMessengers Of Funk, strictly RootsMy man Four Flex, Zulu NationJazzy J in the houseDiamond D, the whole Diggin' In The Crates crewAnd rest in peace to my man Tony MontanaAiyo, I'm out, word is bondThe shit is real(*Premier cuts "Fat Joe's in town"*)more