Music / T / Trillville / Lyrics / Be Real / Lyrics
- Trillville
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| Song details | |
|---|---|
| Title | Be Real |
| Artist | Trillville |
| Album | |
| Genre | |
| Duration | 05:03 |
| Rank | − (−) history » |
| Charts | - view all » |
| Referring urls | view all » |
| Song lyrics |
|---|
|
[Chorus: 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 don't say shit if you can't BE REAL about it [Verse 1] Coming up as a child all i seen was hell My momma was the best soldier, dad stayed in out of jail I came robbin and kicking in doors then on my behalf and 17 old But ya see shorty, My mom was a G she made it real easy for my Sister and me She did what she had to do, and got on the grind like a damn nigga would do Talking about pimping, o she did that too I got robbed and this old nigga took all my loot And I was just 12 years old on 13 skin and bones that's why I thank my heart to sell dope I gives a fuck about none of you hoes All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold, and pressin these doors (shorty) and caking these hoes I'm a pimp, I spend my time making these hoes [Chorus] [Verse 2] Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself A nigga thinkin bout change contemplating my death Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga and the only way I can get away is weed and liquor Fucking niggaz up on the daily if they didn't pay me Niggaz pulling guns on me damn near drove me crazy Young nigga went to school just to sell some dope A little 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 the bitch in her head (nigga) I dun scratch my head unless it itchs an I dun smoke unless I'm bustin at you hating bitches nigga we was brave to die, don't be asking me why Ill rather hustle in the cold cause niggaz spraying wit fire All the childhood fixins wit the devil inside the kitchen Got my mind on my gun and I'm finna pull a pistol [Verse 3: Bohagen] You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, mind body and soul And leave you in a ditch wit no shoes and clothes Waiting for the trash collector Follow me mind selector to the ghetto sector They'll 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 ain't said shit And to this day momma thought I was young, hungry, and poor (par) while she was at the church praising the lord I made through amazingly unscarred She had to be praying cause I made it by the grace of the god I'm proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes Bible in one hand, the other hand 9 dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine [Chorus - 2X] |
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