Виконавець: St. Lunatics
Альбом: Free City, 2001Real Niggaz[(Chorus - Nelly) 2x]
Real niggas ride wit' us
You haters gotta ride the bus
Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
Real niggas ride wit' us (and dime ladies)
You haters gotta ride the bus (we drop crazy)
Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
[Kyjuan]
Kyjuan's a preppy hippy, cross the bridgy of Mississippi
I slang thangs, make bread, easy like Jiffy
Call me a cool nigga or a Mr. refriger'
Kids ask me (";Mr. can you get crunk and jiggy?";)
I reply quickly, bottle of Andres or Crissy
Smoke backyard or sticky, my man, watch me get busy
I wake up with two dimes, both named Nikki
I'm a playa dirty, no passion marks, no hickies
Cats make me sick when I roll through y'all city
Lookin like angry mad, face mad, teeth gritty
You gon' make me go back into my days of U-City
Cornrows, penny bros and new Dickies
Ahh shit, when situation looks shitty
I got that thang with me, plus I Puff like Diddy
You niggas can't hang with me, or pop the pain with me
So wrap somethin mo' and hop in the Range with me
[Ali]
Check, check
No picture me rollin, Optimo, glocka four-four
Four-do' Range Rov', mink with matchin Kangol
Whole hood like ";oh";, freakin 'em out they mind
D's with diamonds on 'em, jackers, I know they want 'em
Not, you see the watch, Rollie or G-shot
You hear me four, five blocks before you see me, that's the knock
I need not speak on that, I speak on Zack
And how he better fix my shit or give my eight G's back
Salute the rugged, flip screen, you gotta love it
Navigational system behind the ten, duckin the public
Take my chain off to thaw out, battle four out
We fill, the fattest wad a hun'neds you ever saw out
Son break the jar out, twist the muskie
Only real niggas ride and smoke, patna trust me
If I'm lyin, bad mouth, slap then crush me
Cuss me, suplex lamb, grab the nine and bust me
'Cause only....
[Chorus]
[Nelly]
I'm like the battery, I come through every door on a cell (Duracell)
Mr. energizer, forever ready to make a mil'
Fuck that Cris', let it spill, I hit the gas, and make it peel
I'm smokin twenty inches of Parelli, wha, up off the wheel
I hit the jewelry store at noon, slight case of the chills
I got the face too damn chunky 'cause it's still read ";twelve";
Well hell, not a shit starter but I be startin some shit
Half the time I'm in the club, half the niggas gettin pissed
Me, got they miss, I done, caught they wrist
And they be thinkin you cockblockin 'cause you gave her a kiss
I walks over to your bitch and asks her ";who's is this?";
(yours Nelly)St. Lunatics - Real Niggaz текст пісні |
