Buddha Monk - Real n***as lyrics

[Floorless] Yo, real n***as move up, fake n***as stand where ya at Guns so big up, you get shot in the front and land in the back You plannin' to stack, these cannons'll clap I light you up in your sixth with ya chick hand on your lap I never hate, I'm always first to get my hand to a cap My reflections is too quick, I got the hands of a cat So don't reach, I rap, homeboy, I don't preach Next time you hear a gangsta flow, talk and don't speak And don't think about rapping while I'm here, you won't eat I'm 18, great flow and gray beam, don't sleep Fake or real, I'll show you how to take a deal And if your flow ain't sick as mine, I can make it ill I know fiends in rehab that still baking crills Beating flows like giving a tred of vacant mill I'm too nice, this kid'll roll trips with two dice I've been around twice, pulled trips in two nights [Chorus 4X: Floorless] Real n***as move forward, fake n***as stand still Real b**hes shake that a**, fake b**hes act real [Floorless] Yo, you'se a gangsta, go 'head, prove it to me now You got a gun on your waist, go 'head, use it on me now I wish a n***a'll act up, while these tools are in me now The last that tried it, dead, plus his j**els is on me now Close range, his uzi's on me, now, I told him that I troop Up and down the block, with four pounds, and uzi's on me now n***a I scoop you up, and leave your cuggi on the ground Unsolved mysteries, make a movie on 'em now True b**hes understand us, fake b**hes don't Cuz they don't know what the plan is, most importantly Flow far from what they man is, way better in fact Your girl leave you for me, she may never come back I'mma show you how the kid do, and how the kid blew Promoting crack to rap, I do not kid you Kid you ain't on my level, talking bout you chilling Shining all day, you ain't on my bezel [Chorus 4X] [Floorless] The real n***as, ya'll know what to do, fake n***as, you to Real b**hes, just tell the fake b**hes to do what you do Teach 'em how to hop on it, ride co*k as well as you do Let 'em know that I'm daddy, and they ain't no time for Fubu Now that's real, ain't nothing fake about this Ask my mother, she tell you ain't nothing fake about Chris I've been through the struggle, and players, I done injured a couple Whether they came in for dolo, or they in to the cuddle It's nothing, so simple to touch you, stay headless You in the game, let's see if you can play headless I'm real, and that's that, I put my life on the track And I'm ill, and you wack, what you writing is crack Plus I'm still, one of the best, with a gun and a vest And you still, one of the floppest, with broken guns in your closet Money in the bank, trust me, I open up son deposit Take back until the next track, hold his mother for hostage [Chorus 4X]