Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song On the Real, artist - Da$h. Date of issue: 02.01.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
On the Real |
| Still high off them pain pills you got from the dentist |
| My crib smell like pot and some incense |
| Plot on a yacht, cash crops and a drop color spinach |
| You said the money’s there I woulda been left |
| Hang the phone up, light the dope up |
| Tell the hoe to clean her coke up |
| And she wait to get her throat fucked |
| Them bad habits, whole faculty some trife bastards |
| We doing anything to live lavish |
| I came a long way from burning dimes of weed in a fiend house |
| Tell my bitch to count my money 'fore she pull her weave out |
| Slang got into where you can’t understand what we speak 'bout |
| Mix a half of green with the blue dream ounce |
| Flip it for double, I feel like Barney Rubble |
| Ten toes in the gravel, I’m finding trouble in any form |
| Hustles the fucking norm, riding a fucking storm |
| Feeling like Morrison |
| The fucking Lizard King, I swear I could do anything |
| Said on the real |
| All these crab niggas know the deal |
| When we start the revolution all they probably do is squeal |
| But chill, roll up that kill |
| I’m penning this rap from the backseat of my car service |
| Backwoods cigar burning, suck 'til her jaw hurting |
| Cash is the Gods purpose, they ask is it all worth it |
| The money say so, with color Jango play the block like legos |
| Moved up from Eggos, all the waffles Belgian |
| Spitting snot from all the pot I’m inhaling |
| I plot on a scale of the globe |
| Metal won’t mold, you let it get cold |
| For the price your boss' soul’ll get sold, nigga |
| Move like Capone through the park with all my henchman |
| I pass the cheque to my assistant |
| Snuff a nigga, tell him hold that |
| Grab the phone back, pardon the interruptions |
| Back to discussing bread I should be touching |
| Drug consumption on the daily, my women hate Israeli’s |
| Skin color Baileys, driver ditch the fed tailing, never fail me |
| They say I’m fucking lucky, nah, just a druggy 'til they kill me or they cuff |
| me, nigga |
| Said on the real |
| All these crab niggas know the deal |
| When we start the revolution all they probably do is squeal |
| But chill, roll up that kill |