| I’m back again, still mackin, still packin
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| Still clappin, suspected snitches
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| I hold the weight, spit the game in different measures
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| Break dimes off with pleasures, f’real
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| Where I’m from cats still hate a mile a minute
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| Tryin to stop my shine and my spinach
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| Diamonds ain’t never finishes, the games goes on
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| They write your rhymes and you supposed to be the don
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| You lie so much you believe your songs
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| The only time you see a thong is when you wearin one
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| The queen is boss now but I’m still the king
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| You want the drama I still supply them things
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| Birds gats and yay, boy girls or haze
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| I do my thing while the music just plays
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| Blaze, and it’s real
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| That’s how I spit it — yeah~!
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| Let 'em know, let 'em know, let 'em know…
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| I seen it good, I seen it bad
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| When there’s money I got to have
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| Hustle and it’s a habit
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| I spit it real, holdin the steel
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| And I do this for all of my homies
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| And they knowwwww, I’m real
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| 70's pimpin niggas respect my shit
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| I spit Funkadelic, like George Clinton
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| I make sense cause that’ll make me dollars
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| Cornballs need not to holla
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| Yes we ballin, still shot callin
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| Fake gangsters is fallin, still police callin
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| Real pimp niggas tip the cap, pop the collar
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| Convince them hoes to hit the strip and get them dollars
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| They lowride when they hit Cali
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| They escalatin from Boston to N. Y
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| Enemies die, while my gangsters multiply
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| We stay on the block with them hoes pretty fly
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| Pretty girls in the bathroom doin one on ones
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| While I’m at the bar, clockin my sums
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| Not too tipsy, cause that’s when they’ll try to get me
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| Yes I stay shifty, one hand on the piece
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| I used to make pancakes with that nigga
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| Break 'em up, hit the streets — 7 figures with that nigga
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| Flipped chicks, bought clothes with that nigga
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| Now I can’t stand, to be around that nigga
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| I heard he was talkin, to the other side
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| I’mma catch him in puff mode when he deep in my ride
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| Then tear fire into his eye
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| Since he’s a silly motherfucker, I’mma see what he got inside
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| If you heard my music, you now know the score
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| Come and peep my city, the horror and the gore
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| Forty-fours, blazin through the corridor
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| Either you spit it real, or see the coroner
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| Lot of ladies scream my name, know the game
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| I’m a wild motherfucker, I’ll never be tamed
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| Big Shug, it’s the journey from within
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| God please forgive me for my sins, I gotta win |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Spit It Real , by - Big Shug. Song from the album Street Champ, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп