| The realest shit of a nigga life man
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| So gutter around here, ya dig?
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| When you gotta get it man
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| This rap shit be havin' niggas goin' every which way man
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| Confused ass niggas
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| They say rapping is good living huh?
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| You feel like when you get it, you gotta get it huh?
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| A lot of people think it’s easy homie not at all
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| It make the same nigga feel like he ain’t got ‘em all
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| And when you stop poppin' off its like Tylenol
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| Until your single play out and you start dying off
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| Two choices, you either ride it ‘til the tires off
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| Or switch it up and start singin' like Diana Ross
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| I’m still a nigga in the trap, so who am I to talk?
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| I just zone out and produce it, play the piano soft
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| Niggas don’t buy records, they try to make our asses soft
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| Off some pop shit, ‘cause Rap City in the basement off
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| This hip hop shit, done slowed down since it taken off
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| And you can sit and complain, but it won’t get you far
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| And you can pitch a hissy fit, curse and flip them off
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| Because to them, you the only, they depict you all
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| It’s fucked up nigga
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| Never promise what you can’t keep
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| ‘Cause every day’s a constant struggle, struggle
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| When faced with reality, reality
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| Never promise what you can’t keep
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| ‘Cause every day’s a constant struggle, struggle
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| When faced with reality, reality
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| Look, they got me feelin' like
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| Fuck the world, ‘cause we livin' in hell
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| Got me, pawning my chain, just to get him his bail
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| Yeah my brother, that’s my nigga, I’m supposed to be with you
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| Closest thing I ever had, to a fatherly figure
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| When my momma shook my pops, said he was a bullshitter
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| It was just me and my brother, look my brothers my nigga
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| So, you know I got yo back like yo spine
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| And I’m yet to see another nigga ever match your grind
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| Nigga, twenty four seven, twilight to sunrise
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| It was nothin they could tell us, it was money on our minds
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| It was triple Cuban links, all at the same time
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| It was bullet proof windows on them 745's, nigga
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| You know the games got its lows and its highs in it
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| You know them people keep they nose up my business
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| Is it a crime for a nigga to see the skies the limit
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| Reachin' for the stars will have you reachin' through the bars
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| It’s a trap
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| Show me a stage and I rhyme a page
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| Rap, sing choruses performin' for the audience
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| They applauding, and record labels exploitin'
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| Tellin' stories of pain and then recordin' them
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| How they selling our slang and now they talkin' shit?
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| Wish I could give them my shoes and tell them walk in this
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| Thugs singin' the blues, and now they fortunate
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| Make them mad, flossin' shit they thought we’d never have
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| Ghetto niggas pullin' up in somethin' elegant
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| I guess if it’s one man’s trash, others will treasure it
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| So that settles it, metals spit, quick to be devil for the benefit
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| Only if I’m gettin' rich
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| It’s like a cycle these tracks that I’m blessin'
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| Is mirrors to my pain, so I’m rappin' my reflection
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| Livin' in the rain, got me blackin' out, I’m stressin'
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| It’s like I’m relivin' my vision, I’m repeatin' my life
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| My words fight back in punch lines disrespectful
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| But I’d rather have my voice box the instrumental
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| I got a one track mind, puttin' lines together
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| And get some glow before I go, I can’t shine forever, nope |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Reality (feat. Ty Nati, Numbers & Eddie B) , by - Nipsey Hussle. Song from the album Bullets Ain't Got No Name Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп