What Real Thugs Talk About (feat. Ghostface)

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Patrick Antonian

Patrick Antonian moved into Los Angeles, from overseas, at the age of two. Growing up in L.A. during the golden era surrounded him with the elements of HipHop and also taught him the code of the street. He is still upholding the morals of a past generations while stepping into the new era. Over the years Patrick Antonian has become a steeple in the Underground Hip Hop scene, steadily carving his own lane with raw lyrics and Los Angeles grimy beats. He is L.A.’s grimy street rap. Combining the fact that he is originally from and inspired by the west-coast but was also inspired by artist’s from the east and south, really makes for an innovative sound and style of rap. Along with gaining the attention of new listeners, the music has also got the attention of som… more »

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Double down with the fitness about my business ugh
Some say it's a sickness it's getting vicious huh
When I think about riches focus my lense and hit it over the fence
Someone call the forensics. Ugh
I'll kill the witness plus making dollars and true sense by writing a sentence.
Bro Vocab chemist roll out benses murder a mic live ugh
Perform throw down senseless ho
Blow out engines ugh
The top gun smoking weed till the cops come and
Still get a lot done it's Pat pretty Tony that's a hot one
Mack tens with rigatoni shells and a shot gun
A true real one, you are not one
I eat a tunaroll Chillin' atcha funeral
With the blood still stuck under my cuticles
You a backseat athlete
I'm Kobe with shot
Metaphorically pack heat it's that deep.
When the party goes down, Ima Air It out
If your man try to flex Ima wear him out
If your bitch give me the ass, Ima wear her out
This is real shit, real thugs talk about
Yo I shine like oily skin
If you ever front on the God I'm going straight for the limbs
Like bean and them to to R kim
Loose your kufi, your man will wheel you around with no limbs
Knocking out Doctors in the ER
My man came in the line fucking with you and Soldier in C-yard
Word life, jail house, Rubber grip ice pics
You know the fat candy canes the bangers is that thick
So pass the stick smoke in the air she was a bad bitch
But ended up being a catfish
Love at first sight for the clothing at Saks fifth established
Said she prayed but acted sac-religious
Only after the riches can't trust half of these bitches
If not a hundred I'm still pimping on something
With a thick one vanilla sintrinelle smoking joints w/ White Zinfandel
Like a kingpin that got bricks for sale
When the party goes down, Ima Air It out
If your man try to flex Ima wear him out
If your bitch give me the ass, Ima wear her out
This is real shit, real thugs talk about
The rocks in my watch, every year I change the stones
Around the same time when they change the phones
Big collar furs, spitting out Asty, twin Bugattis that names April and Ashanty
Swiss accounts police paid guarding the cribbo
Everything liquid the feds think we're dead broke
Where they houses at? where they cars at
They cant link us to the fountain that's pouring cash
Naw, if I could slow the speed of time down, bullets will float through mid air
Hit the ground. I make the killers run the other way in wise town
There for wise to still be alive to blow it down
Air it out. Wear Them out
This is real shit. Real thugs talk about

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