| Fuck buyin’jewelry, buyin’ammo
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| Teflon, bulletproof the Lambo
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| Hate rats, got my niggas in the fed
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| Got money in the bank and money on my head
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| Really? |
| Niggas sound silly
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| Wanna talk money, yeah, count it, ten milli
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| Free my nigga Meek Milly, bad bitch out of Philly
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| Sold that white girl so I guess I sold Iggy
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| Who you think I give a fuck about, an enemy?
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| Think I give a fuck about the industry?
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| Better Google me Boy, I really made a million out the fuckin’streets
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| Boy, I had a white car back in '04
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| Back in days and ride low
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| When bein’a street nigga really meant something
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| Now niggas sell his soul for a follow
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| If you wanna talk streets, what it mean to you, nigga?
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| Take pictures with guns so that make you a killer
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| Nah, LA Reid gave me that check today
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| empower the hittas
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| I’m Crenshaw at Fatburger, fuckin’with Nipsey
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| And I bet you I’m rockin’my chains
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| Or I’m in the Watts with Jay Rock or slidin’through Compton with Game
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| Cause real niggas livin’the same
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| My auntie did 20 years, my pop did like 16
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| My partner did a decade so what the fuck you really mean?
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| Really, ho, Billie Jean jackets in my video
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| Causin’all this racket, no tennis court
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| Really made a million in a kitchen fork
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| Skrt, skrt, skrt, skrt, dinner fork
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| Often offended, I told that bitch to get out when she finished
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| Need me a bitch that gon’suck me and fuck me And freak me and pass me to all of her friends
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| That’s what it is, verbal telekinesis
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| Korrupt mixed with Jesus, Big Meech mixed with Yeezus
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| Keep playin’them games and get shot from them bleachers
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| I still got my stripes when I’m not wearing Adidas
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| Got a fresh hairline from Peter
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| Got me a hockey mask, choppers, started talking fast
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| Give it to 'em direct just like Jeter
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| Niggas ain’t killing shit, niggas they playing
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| They saying they killing shit
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| Got me an A and a K and a 220 trey
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| And a hit might burn a little bit
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| I’m like, «Really, little bitches, say really»
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| Fuck these niggas
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| Niggas say they gon’kill me Niggas say they gon’kill me Niggas say they gon’kill me Niggas say they gon’kill me Brand new Benz with the top down
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| In my old neighborhood, all the cop 'round
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| I don’t give a fuck, motherfucker, act up Let him and the police hear how the Glock sound
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| Comin’with the bullshit, get shot down
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| Sucker free, no fly zone in my town
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| And there ain’t no discussion
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| It’s simple, you try me we gon’get to bustin'
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| I promise, my nigga, you want it, my nigga?
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| My young niggas ready, they goin’on guard
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| They act like they know ain’t no God
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| We so official, for sure, no facade
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| Trap nigga shine like I glow in the dark
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| Still got my .44 in the door
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| play with you, homie get laid with you
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| Cement your feet, then it’s off in the lake with you
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| Underestimate you, that mistake I couldn’t make with you
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| I hit you with the K, myself and show you what the paper do And can’t nobody handle you the way I do Give your boy a K or two, kill you in a day or two
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| And no disrespect, boy, you violate me, we gon’handle that
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| Blow your ass off the map
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| And you still reachin’your hand out for no dap
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| My demonstration in exchange for your hatin'
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| I put this flame all in your face, boy you fakin'
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| We come through in Mercedes and shoot you
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| You’d think Call of Duty would make it Bacon, I get my moolah off top
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| He don’t give me my moolah, off top
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| Give a damn what the naysayers say
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| And we waitin’a day in the A with the K and I’m gone
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| Niggas ain’t gon’kill shit
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| I’m ridin''round, 7 pounds, nigga, Will Smith
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| It’s a whole heck of y’all and a whole deck of cards
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| This shit right here you can’t deal with
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| Two ice cubes and some cognac
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| Spent some time in twin towers, I ain’t goin’back
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| Spent my commissary on some M&M's thinkin’I was Eminem
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| Runnin’Aftermath in all black
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| I’ll slaughter your house with 5 9's
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| Leave all of you niggas with crooked eyes
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| Got the Louisville Slugger, Big Papi Ortiz
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| Knockin’every button off your buttoned up sleeves
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| Please that’s Jeezy the Snowman
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| Comin’straight to your window like Bruh Man
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| Said I ain’t killin’your dog but stealin' conscience
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| Puttin’bullets in your doberman, don’t fuck with Compton |
| Don’t you fuck with Kendrick, don’t fuck with Problem
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| Don’t fuck with YG, I’m Mr. Miyagi, Daniel San, I handle them
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| My handle’s dumb, I had no gun
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| Fuck around, stomp you out in these Durant’s or somethin'
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| I bear arms like Durantula
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| This rocket launcher’ll blow your whole fuckin’mansion up And everybody gotta die, put them candles up How you get caught up in the web with tarantulas?
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| And for you fuckin’dumb niggas, let me slow it down
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| I can screw you like Pimp and Big Moe around
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| And when a nigga say «Timber», you don’t need Ricky Rubio
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| To let a nigga know it’s goin’down
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| Fuck you clowns, yeah I put the word on you niggas
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| Go A$AP Ferg on you niggas
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| Been all through New York with Diddy
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| My verse’ll Schmurda you niggas
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| And that’s not a shot at T.I.P. |
| or a shot at Gotti
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| Take shots of Ciroc in a black Bugatti
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| Got a shotty in a backpack, napsack
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| Shawty got a black MAC 11, I will catch that body
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| Like Nasir and Hov when I’m 40 years old
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| I will still be the pilot that light up the stove
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| And be cookin’that crack 'til the Doctor come back
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| And tell niggas that Detox come out this October
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| Like Ol’Dirty Bastard, I’m finally sober
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| And verses like this’ll get me a new Rover
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| Get you a new home and it’s in a casket
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| Your funeral boring, I’m glad that it’s over
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| Soulja! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Really, artist - The Game. Album song Blood Moon: Year Of The Wolf, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп