Intro
Yepa, Yepa, homeboy
It's the Lone Star Rida, Low G
Real life, real lyrics
Happy P, El Coyote
The real, recognize the real
Dope House Records
Dope sells itself, always
Fuck a friend, fuck a hoe
I'm here til I go
It ain't about money, it ain't about fame
It's about family
Damn, we so close, but these niggas don't understand
We came from so far
You can love me or hate me
It's all gravy
Mama couldn't raise me
And dope fiends paid me
Took what I learned in the streets to make beats
One million dollars later, still smokin' Swisher Sweets
And I remember way back, way back in the ghetto
See as far as I can remember niggas called me Hap.
See as far as I can remember I was po' and broke
No money in my pocket and no weed to smoke
But now thangs changed, see it's been a little better lately
The greatest blessin' in my life has been my baby (huh)
'Cause I ain't never known love like that
And ain't no angel up above like that
And I pray
That she don't have to see the things I saw
Too many murdered friends and niggas behind bars
Wit cut-throat niggas, scandalous ass bitches
Niggas blowin' they brains out, so vicious
Fake niggas, kickin' niggas doors down
For what?
Just to brag when some hoes around
And you call yourself a gangsta, a hustla, a playa? (huh)
That ain't nothing if The Lord ain't yo Savior
So I kick back, and put my heart on this gat
And everything I say be silent, so that's that
And we blessed, foo, so let's bow my niggas (huh)
That's why I made this here for all of my niggas
A biggie bang to the boogie woogie shoobeedoowap
I'm doin' 120 racin' this {new eye rop}?
I'm a worka in the dirtiest game on planet earth-a
I sip the shit that come in a little jar of Gerber
Table turner, sellin' pearl-a
Smoke in my nerve-a
I'm 1-800-MURDER, I packs the Big Bertha
Boys lookin' at me funny, my palm get sweaty
You bitches cryin' over spilled spaghetti
You can ask my gal, I used to be broke as hell
I couldn't pay my doctor for my in-grown toe nail
And it's a trip, 'cause I ain't even broke a sweat
But if I turn around, you see my back is soakin' wet
It's the Lone Star Rida, Low G
Real life, real lyrics
Happy P, El Coyote
The real, recognize the real
Dope House Records
Dope sells itself, always
Fuck a friend, fuck a hoe
I'm here til I go
It ain't about money, it ain't about fame
It's about family
Damn, we so close, but these niggas don't understand
We came from so far
You can love me or hate me
It's all gravy
Mama couldn't raise me
And dope fiends paid me
Took what I learned in the streets to make beats
One million dollars later, still smokin' Swisher Sweets
And I remember way back, way back in the ghetto
See as far as I can remember niggas called me Hap.
See as far as I can remember I was po' and broke
No money in my pocket and no weed to smoke
But now thangs changed, see it's been a little better lately
The greatest blessin' in my life has been my baby (huh)
'Cause I ain't never known love like that
And ain't no angel up above like that
And I pray
That she don't have to see the things I saw
Too many murdered friends and niggas behind bars
Wit cut-throat niggas, scandalous ass bitches
Niggas blowin' they brains out, so vicious
Fake niggas, kickin' niggas doors down
For what?
Just to brag when some hoes around
And you call yourself a gangsta, a hustla, a playa? (huh)
That ain't nothing if The Lord ain't yo Savior
So I kick back, and put my heart on this gat
And everything I say be silent, so that's that
And we blessed, foo, so let's bow my niggas (huh)
That's why I made this here for all of my niggas
A biggie bang to the boogie woogie shoobeedoowap
I'm doin' 120 racin' this {new eye rop}?
I'm a worka in the dirtiest game on planet earth-a
I sip the shit that come in a little jar of Gerber
Table turner, sellin' pearl-a
Smoke in my nerve-a
I'm 1-800-MURDER, I packs the Big Bertha
Boys lookin' at me funny, my palm get sweaty
You bitches cryin' over spilled spaghetti
You can ask my gal, I used to be broke as hell
I couldn't pay my doctor for my in-grown toe nail
And it's a trip, 'cause I ain't even broke a sweat
But if I turn around, you see my back is soakin' wet
Credits
Writer(s): Jacoby White, Aaron B. Tyler, Jay W. Jenkins, Miguel Scott, Terry Keith Allen, Andre P. Manuel, Lee F. Dixon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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