Lyrics:
My life is real baby
You peeping me take a picture
You peeping me take a picture (You should take a photograph)
My life is real baby
You peeping me
that's right
Myself at all times, I’m so allergic to phony
One of a kind original
Means I’m the one and only
God put me here to be humble
And help my
I stay focused, life’s all about balance
Success breeds ‘cause God gave me this talent
I never rode the bench
I always been a starter
And overtime
private
You know the Slogan real Gs move in silence
Think I ain't got it Yo thought was lying
Drop a four in a twenty call that bitch kobe Bryant
I really
was real cold
And lonely my daddy been gone since 4
Money money money money all
That I really seen
Niggas out here sellin' tabs, sellin' bars
Sellin'
Best believe a real nigga ain't told no lie
Day by day all I ever do is grind and try
To inhale the wholesome and exhale the savage
God didn't put me
cause the v's elite
Reason why it's so hard to do what I planned to do
Planned to run the whole damn planet in '22
Hundred years go by I'm musically still
Cause I've been saved by mo' bells than Lark Vorhees
Man fuck that nigga 'Cris man, for real man. I'm tired of
this shit man. Man I try to rap for
Always
The Ink Spots
Written by Irving Berlin
This version not released as a single
Five versions charted in 1926, two in 1944, and two more in
odds like Gideon
Won first with a powerful God against plenty men
True focus and determination beats numbers
Stronger than Sparta, the original three
crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst
My nigga game came with a hundred bars fo' y'all
Now I'm following his footsteps nigga
Young ya boy, CO when I'm five times platinum
Holla'
get eclipsed
And then I star in the movie (LexNour)
Where the underdog leaves the
Wholе game straight confused
You think you rappin' with a
God, you
wanna talk money?
Shit real that's all I could tell 'em
Just rap 'em up good so the dogs can't smell 'em c'mon
Brown paper bag (thank god for that)
indie records show up in a W-E-A box?
By saying your independent, you belittle the whole movement
Real emcee's work hard, ain't got investors to put out
wars, makin' me more yours
Seem to get a kick out of keepin' me on all fours
Face glistenin', I'm addicted to you
Original, Wisdom Body got me
the Widow's Son
Pop off on you, you ain't nothing to me, dun dun!
Original Tyzeem, Holy water, Visine
Designated wordplay, God respect my deen
Shine
Play the game 4 quarters
Yeah I keep it one hundred
Real recognize real, recognize real
Real recognize real, real recognize real
Real recognize real
and my momma use to sit and watch the lion king
She had a pathfinder to yea bumping Yolanda Adams
Or four hundred degreez by juvenile
And we ain't never
approved by Carly Simon
Most rappers is real hard but still hardly rhyming
To all (rise and shine) give God the glory
I already give a percent of mine
Ayo check this out son
This is my man Nas Escobar
And I go by the name of Cormega you know
(you gonna get your self murdered)
Yo check this out
Fountains of youth found inside a babies laugh
Many ladies ask a real man his intentions
Raised by dads that foretold of bull-shitters on the mission
Other
causing a boggle, boggling, the toggle, toggling to God, I got love in abundance in heavenly hundreds, consume me oh lord, I'm in love with your model
Gog
are fresh
'Cos you're a fish and I'm a water sign
My laid-back pimp walk is linear by design
Gold fronts soul I shotee now watch you shine
Me and C-Know
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