- Lil Scrappy Be Real 歌詞
- Lil Scrappy
- 製作人: Jonathan 'Lil Jon' Smith
錄音: Jonathan Cantrell
混音師: Lil Jon/John Frye
貝斯: LaMarquis Jefferson
演奏: Lil Scrappy
吉他: Craig Love
混音助理: Warren Bletcher
監製: Vince Phillips/Emperor Searcy/Lil Jon/Tom Whalley/Rob McDowell
母帶工程師: Tom Coyne
[Hook: 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 cant BE REAL about it
[Lil Scrappy]
Comin up as a child all I seen was Hell
Momma stepped, Daddy sold yay, stayed in and out of jail
I came robbin and kickin in doors
Then went from a half to sellin ten Os
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 go on the damn grind like a nigga would do
Talkin about pimpin, o she did that too
I got robbed because a old nigga took all my loot
And I was just 12 years old goin on 13, which made me bold
Thats why I thank my heart is so cold
I gives a **** about none of you hoes
All you fake thugs think about is grillin wit gold
Replacin yo does (shawty), and cakin these hoes
(shorty) and cakin these hoes
Imma pimp, I spend my time makin these hoes
[Hook]
[Lil Scrappy]
Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself
A nigga thankin bout change contemplatin my death
Feel my pain as it rains all over a nigga
And the only way I can get away is weed and liquor
****in niggas up on the daily if they didnt 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 in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially
Momma swung on a nigga, I stabbed a bitch in the head
I dont scratch my head unless it itches
And I dont smoke unless Im bustin at you hatin bitches
Niggas, we was bred to die , dont be askin me why
Ill rather hustle in the cold cause niggas prayin wit fire
All the childhood issues when the Devils out to get ya
Got my mind on my gun and I shall pull pistol
[Verse 3: Bohagen]
(Bohagen) You see the streets, theyll swallow you whole
Your mind, body, and soul
And leave you in a ditch, cold, wit no shoes and clothes
Be waitin for the trash collector
Follow me now selector to the ghetto sector
Theyll 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 aint said shit
And to this day, Momma thought I was up at the park
While she was at the church praising the lord
I made it through amazingly unscarred
She had to be praying, because I made it by the graces of God
A product of hard times, I spit hard rhymes
Bible in one, the other hard iron
Dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine
Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine
[Hook] - 2X
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