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
Kyjuans 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
Im a playa dirty, no passion marks, no hickies
Cats make me sick when I roll through yall 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 cant hang with me, or pop the pain with me
So wrap somethin mo and hop in the Range with me
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
Ds 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, thats the knock
I need not speak on that, I speak on Zack
And how he better fix my shit or give my eight Gs 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 hunneds you ever saw out
Son break the jar out, twist the muskie
Only real niggas ride and smoke, patna trust me
If Im lyin, bad mouth, slap then crush me
Cuss me, suplex lamb, grab the nine and bust me
Cause only....
Im 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
Im 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 its still read "twelve"
Well hell, not a shit starter but I be startin some shit
Half the time Im 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 "whos is this?"
(yours Nelly)
Tell em one more time just in case he forgets
I be the sleepy eyed, kinky guy, the chinky eye
Comin be like I, ay, EI, ready the guy
Nigga hella high, country grammar, yellin "EI!"
Fuckin your cutie pie, forty-nine, not gettin none
You shoulda seen this ladies face when I walked in the bank
Im the school boy, Im Hollywood, smellin like dank
Lookin like I dont know left from right
Holdin a check, got the whole front desk like "Murphys set for life!"
I agree wit em, I exchange sacks with seeds in em
Drivin eighty in the rainiest Rov, TVs in em
Im St. Lou, plus true to the arch equals Im real
Im Hollywood, plus true to the heart equals a mil
Im killin yall, matter fact Im killin myself
In a category with T-Boz, Im feelin myself
It gets no better, Slo says it gotta get better
Gotta get wood, gotta get dubs, we gotta get leather
Im like, what, real playas roll on dubs (Lunatics like)
And haters cant kick it wit us (and our blunts tight)
We smokin til our brain gon bust
Gettin head in the back of the truck, City what up
Im like only....
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