Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Real Muthaphuckkin G's, artist - Eazy-E. Album song It's On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.11.1993
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Ruthless
Song language: English
Real Muthaphuckkin G's |
Compton, Compton, Compton |
Ahh, real muthaphuckkin G’s |
Ahh, real muthaphuckkin G’s |
Ahh, real muthaphuckkin G’s |
Ahh, real muthaphuckkin G’s |
Hey yo, Doctor, here’s another proper track |
And it’s phat, watch the sniper, time to pay the piper |
And let that real shit provoke |
See, you’s a wannabe 'loc, and you’ll get smoked, and I hope |
That your fans understand when you talk about sprayin' me |
The same records that you makin' is payin' me |
Motherfuck Dre! |
Motherfuck Snoop! |
Motherfuck Death Row! |
Yo, and here comes my left blow |
'Cause I’m the E-A-Z-Y-E and this is the season |
To let the real motherfuckin' G’s in |
You’re like a kid, you found a pup, and now you’re dapper |
But tell me, where the fuck you found an anorexic rapper? |
Talkin' 'bout who you gon' squabble with and who you shoot |
You’re only sixty pounds when you’re wet and wearin' boots |
(Damn, E, they tried to fade you on Dre Day) |
But Dre Day only meant Eazy’s payday |
All of a sudden Dr. Dre is the G Thang |
But on his own album cover he was a she-thang |
So, nigga please, nigga please |
Don’t step to these muthaphuckkin' real G’s |
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless |
Yo, Dre! |
(What's up?) |
Boy, you should’ve known by now |
Every day it’s a new rapper claimin' to be dapper than the Dresta |
Softer than a bitch but portray the role of gangsta |
Ain’t broke a law in your life |
Yet every time you rap you yap about the guns and knife |
Just take a good look at the nigga and you’ll capture |
The fact that the master is simply just an actor |
Who mastered the bang and the slang and the mental |
Of niggas in Compton, Watts, and South Central |
Never ever once have you ran with the turf |
But yet in every verse claim you used to do the dirt |
But tell me, who’s a witness to your fuckin' work? |
So you never had no bid’ness, so save the drama, jerk! |
Niggas straight kill me, knowin' that they pranksters |
This is goin' out to you studio gangstas |
See, I did dirt, put in work, and many niggas can vouch that |
So since I got stripes, I got the right to rap about that |
But niggas like you, I gotta hate ya |
'Cause I’m just tired of suburbia niggas |
Talkin' about they come from projects |
Knowin' you ain’t seen the parts of the streets, G |
Think you started tryna bang around the time of the peace treaty |
Wearin' khakis and mob while you rhyme |
Little fag tried to sag, but you’re floodin' at the same time |
And your set don’t accept ya; |
scared to kick it with your homies |
'Cause you know they don’t respect ya |
So, nigga please, check nuts |
Before you step to these muthaphuckkin' real G’s |
Well, it’s the Knocc Out, definition «Original baby gangsta» |
Approach me like you hard, motherfucker, I’ma bank ya |
Shank ya, with my fuckin' shank, if I have to |
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg are fuckin' actors |
Pranksters, studio gangstas, busters |
But this time you’re dealin' with some real motherfuckers |
G’s, nigga please, don’t try to step |
'Cause if you do, then a peeled cap is all that would be left |
See, young niggas like me will break you off somethin' |
Claimin' my city — but Dre, you ain’t from Compton |
Niggas like y’all is what I call wannabes |
And ain’t shit compared to real muthaphuckkin' G’s |
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless |
Yo, Dre! |
(What's up?) |
I never met a O.G. |
who never did shit wrong |
You tried to diss the Eazy-E, so now, nigga, it’s on |
You and your Doggy Dogg think that y’all hoggin' shit |
Both of you bitches can come and suck my Doggy dick |
Beatin' up a bitch don’t make you shit, but then again |
Some niggas think it makes a man |
Damn, it’s a trip how a nigga could switch so quick |
From wearin' lipstick to smokin' on chronic at picnics |
And now you think you’re bigger |
But to me you ain’t nothin' but a bitch-ass nigga |
That ain’t worth a food stamp |
And at Death Row, I hear you gettin' treated like boot camp |
Gotta follow your sergeant’s directions |
Or get your ass pumped with the Smith & Wesson |
Learn a lesson from the Eaze |
Stay in your place and don’t step to real muthaphuckkin' G’s |
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless |
Yo, Dre! |
(What's up?) |
Boy, you should’ve known by now |
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless |
Yo, Dre! |
(What's up?) |
Boy, you should’ve known by now |
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless |
Yo, Dre! |
(What's up?) |
Boy, you should’ve known by now: Eazy Duz It |