[Verse 1: Daveed Diggs] Somebody barking at the moon, let the dogs loose Hunt to kill, they motherfucking jaw's loose They talking out they neck, they need a long noose And a strong tree branch, angle obtuse See they think they heavy, think they talking weight Like they revolution-ready, wanna storm the gates Like they gonna take the food off the massa plate While the massa watch they efforts and he masturbate Getting off, a sadist hard to satiate Emaciated, make the maître d' bring him another plate Shifting in they seat, talking that earthquake Shake it 'til she drop it like they yelling it's her birthday Go girl, go boy, go get it Ammunition, lock it, load it, drop it Buy it, crack it, pour it, sniff it Courage in a vial for your movement, get into it Cause the whole world wanna see you move it
[Hook: Diggs] It's the real hip-hop Where the real get shot How you feel, trick stop Fuck your feelings
That's where killers get made Motherfuckers wanna talk but if you ain't saying "thanks" Shut your mouth
[Verse 2: TiVO] What it do Nigga stop Money talk Words is counted What it buy Who give a fuck It's real out here, nigga you should be about it Okay, these are the times, that bird is easy to follow You know the hustler's church, sipping syrup is gospel In the land of the murder, nigga the future is bottled That bottle stuffed with a towel and shot toward a chopper Okay, these are the times, look up, Based God is the truth We turning water to molly and push a tablet to you He say the ten crack commandments could get your mammy to shoot Your change was sunk with Atlantis, who gives a fuck what you do How real you gon' make it, you talking bitches and bottles And popping pills in a booth, we're talking niggas with nothing Who prolly crack at your jewels Motherfuckers go hard with a few shots and a pistol Like 2Pac in juice Why you seem scared now, that real, nigga, that shit
[Hook]
[Diggs] That's where eulogies are made Haters popping shit, but don't wanna show they face Shut your mouth
[Verse 3: Chinaka Hodge] Real negra, acrylic feel addictions and shit Diligent in diction with epenthesis An [?] swivelin' my spine Tremor of my wrist, shrivel up my mind And the bullet give the emphasis to life, the bodies on the dancefloor often It's the gin, the patent, the touch and feel of cotton Shopping for your coffin with your best girl mic'd up Lost in all the popping pills and hoping to get wifed up Blacker than a Kara Walker silhouette Realer than your uncle and his death by cigarettes Octoroons hiding from the noon sunrays A block of goons sliding in the smooth gunplay These are the rites, the rituals, the nighttime MOs And the death toll implicit in a Soundcloud demo Plastic black pack speaks Rhapsody's mix With a clap-clap asscheek ratchetry, bitch And that's the real
[Hook]
[Diggs] That's where history is made Claiming he the real, but can't even feel the bass Shut your mouth
[Verse 4: Kill Rogers] Just coldclocked the motherfucker who knock I'm the one who does the knocking A bold Glock in my pocket, it's cocked Big as a rock and my cock spit up these comets And fat galaxy bitches as big as Christopher Wallace Clutch-tied up Felicia, my pitbull, she a beast We called her J Wanted to make a purebred bitch a police And I did it Yeah, fuck it, I did it Inspired not, I am ridic No, fuck fine, Imma tip it My .45 is my picket line--live, reboot or relive it There ain't no spooking a ghost, dead inside I invented Jesus be walking, but where in holy hopes is he headed I'm from the west with a rodeo still with homies that's dreaded Don't you phonies forget it Pretty boy with a ugly mouth And a mind riding off in a fucking two-seater speeding in 405 Never minding the meter, chugging a two-liter of wine High as a tweaker, black buttons for eyes, looking like Coraline
[Hook]
[Diggs] That's where bullets get sprayed Wanna jump the gun but don't wanna meet your fate Shut your mouthTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
