Colin Wolfe - Comin Real Again lyrics

[2Pac yelling] Guess who's back Guess whos' back muthaf**a, big ballin' a** muthaf**in' Breed Givin' you what ya need, yea, smokin' a gang of weed Hit them fools n***a [MC Breed] Come one, come all n***as get the beat down Retreat, creep, or feel the heat of the Breed sound Collect facts, then attack like I'm suppose to Ya boy's goin', lef', on n***as and them hoes too It's me, that n***a who ain't never got caught My mic is wounded, I'ma test it with a touch of salt Keep a book of the mark a** n***as I broke Cause big Breed, can do ya while I'm smokin' my dope, try an' cope Catch up as this sh** gets mental, this chronic got me workin' my brain I need a pencil So I can shake and change the style, but in the meanwhile I maintain the crowd Make moves to improve, so I can build a bigger rep The trigger finger strapped, I wanna see another n***a step I play the cards, lost by your dingy mista Gillagan The mighty mad writer's straight up Comin' Real Again [2Pac yelling] Buck buck muthaf**a. Right at your muthaf**in' a** This sh** too strong for a muthaf**in' vest So watch your chest and your dome Leave Breed the f** alone We sendin' n***as to the f**in' cemetery [Breed] They got me thinkin'. Sittin' in the hot spot I'm straight up havin' hard times wanting me a drop top And a fat knot, and I ain't tryin' to hear that 5-0 sh** I'm black, and I was born with a survival kit, uh Ain't sh** but spit, in the beer that I'm drinkin' I gotta get paid, I gotta get paid, and that's what a n***a be thinkin' You sleep hoes, I'm puttin' a peep holes In your forehead. Run till your toes is numb, go test your broke head Breed's got n***as at your back once again punk Told you ain't no future in that sh**, but you still front When will they realize, I got the feel again The mighty mad writer's Comin' Real Again [2pac yelling] Buck buck biiinnng That's the motherf**in' sound as we buckin' mothaf**as down Yea n***a, run but you count out race this motherf**in' bullet Breed, pull it. They can't fade you boy [Breed] Once mo', toe to toe? I don't think so Bird sales, and knockin' n***as out like Riddick Bowe You ain't the play, you know the play so don't say sh** Get 'em up and find your a** gettin' up off the pavement Wavin' the sh**, beggin' n***as to just straight quit But f** that, a hard head can get a n***as a** kicked I ain't lettin' up for none...son I'm Comin' Real Again [2Pac yelling] Yea motherf**a how you wanna play this sh**? We can go toe to toe, Glock for Glock, block for block Homie to muthaf**in' homie But you muthaf**as gonna feel this n***a this time Cause we ain't comin' back with that old bullsh** There's too many muthaf**in' dead n***as for me to be takin' this here bullsh** That's why there's muthaf**as in the pin now, n***a So pull or quit that bullsh**, cause I don't wanna hear that muthaf**in' crap Comin' Real Again n***a, thought I told you muthaf**as, I thought you knew It's the muthaf**in' real sh** muthaf**a. 100 percent authentic Type of sh** you f**in' get chronic'd out to, you know what I'm sayin'? So do me one of them muthaf**in' favors, and light another f**in' blunt You know what I'm sayin'? A blunt muthaf**a. Philly style You know what I'm sayin'? Chronic n***a! I'm talkin' 'bout laid out, played out, phat f**in' funk Yea this that type sh** we kickin' in the 9 tre muthaf**a So all you muthaf**in' big ballin' a** gangstas You put your muthaf**in' hand on yo' gat And if the police roll up and say turn it down, you burn it down muthaf**a Cause we Comin' Real Again. 19 n***a 3, boy. Real again. We grabbin' steel Again, cause we Comin' Real Again. We turn the 90's to the 60's muthaf**a That's how we rollin'