Joe Quinde - Real n***az lyrics

[Hook: Jay-Z] Real n***as do real things Hangin with the honies is the song I sing Real n***as do real things On the road to riches and diamond rings Real n***as do real things Bustin my toast off the roof drinkin 90 proof til spring Real n***as do real things, check [Verse 1: Jay-Z] We started out makin, small time bacon Two little n***as bakin, talkin bout whippin cakes Get clothin and big cheddar, hopin it gets better We had no knowledge of this sh** we just was with whatever In front of your buildin clockin, thought I was makin a k**in Right in front of your children, eightball in my side pocket They was corrupt too, disrespectin the fiends I used to Look up to, take it or leave it, f** you In different parts of the planet, Oakland to New York I'm hollerin Lifetimes, he hollerin Life's Too $hort Parallel lives and j**-els held high To the Range, to the Rove, get exchanged, for your souls You know how the game goes, slang to get G's And speak in Chinese everybody gains the same dough Get your sh** scarred f**in with my sick squad From Marcy, to the Bay y'all, we get large, Bee-eeyee-otch [Hook] [Verse 2: Too $hort] So now you own a record label, I got one too We on a roll now, can't nobody stop our crew You can treat us like convicts, you know we got records On the shelf and on the charts the double deckers The fat donkey house down the block, belongs to me You criticize the way I walk, you wanna see my bankbook? I'm not a crook, I flipped the script and changed my ways So I can get paid, everday I see the same old sh**, I see in the streets I know you think I'm sellin keys but I only sell beats Dopefiend music, it's drug related You can buy it on the corner get a radio and play it It always sounds better when you turn it up loud Rap music let these motherf**ers know what we about I know these gay a** record labels keep f**in n***as It's just like in the streets main, how much you get? [Hook] [Verse 3: Too $hort] That's right, I been a hustler for a long time Always got the right beats, never saying wrong rhymes I started off with nothing ended up with everything Now we sip Hennessy in first cla** on every plane Ask Jay-Z, he know what I'm sayin Always see me at the bank and yes I'm goin again There ain't no dollar amount, that can make me happy Fine women, a big house, a truck and a Caddy [Verse 4: Jay-Z] Now peep, how sweet, n***as lives can get Put beef aside, the East and Westside connect $hort Dawg, and Jigga with the, fo'-fo' flow I got love for y'all motherf**ers y'all just don't know I know y'all got a thing for them rag six-fo's I like the five speed drops pop the clutch then go If you want it, keep ballin, and if you jealous stop I want Biggie to rest in peace, as well as 'Pac How real is that? [Hook] [Too $hort] Beyotch! $hort Dawg's in the house [Jay-Z] Jigga [Too $hort] Much love [Jay-Z] $hort Dawg, get your money mane [Too $hort] All the way from the West coast [Jay-Z] Uhh, how real is that