Lost Boyz - Keep it Real lyrics

[Mr.CHEEKS] Yo believe I paid the dues man I started in the game With my mans on linden and the van we drinking ghetto champagne Slinging rocks and packing Glocks on the blocks It's early in the morning I'm selling tumbs from my reeboks Tres nicks and dimes I write rhymes But the ghetto times they got the cheeks doing crimes The street life yeah that's the only life I know Where n***as sling rocks bust shots and push yeahyo Sit on crates keep their backs against gates Every man is insane he's got a brain like norman bates Timberland boots ski hats we pack gats Carry across town because we tapping n***as hoodrats But they don't want the fam listen See a south side jamaica queen fellas get down man Listen so what your crew is x-rated Peoples if you violate you getting violated (Chorus) Come on and keep it real; this is saying That the lost boy and group home fam want it all what would you do And if you feel that you'se a real soldier from the street Throw your hand in the air we salute you Bounce it up town bounce it down south Bounce bounce it up town bounce it down south I had a messed up childhood the head is mad nappy I need money in a snap gee kid I'm trying to blow like papi Fat cat the street life is where it's at Peeling caps so yo we got to stay strapped Terrified cause the crew from the south side is bustin No question I keep my hear in braids taliq got dreads Hangin out in the reds wearing levis and pro-keds Pouring beer on the curb for the dead I had to bring drama to some powder head in Hempstead (Freaky TAH) hey yo cut the music down Yo half the world thought the album failed in this 94 and its on.. I'm smoking weed in 96' with my peeps Jetting from the police cause police they'se a bunch of creeps I'm testing off the new burners in the park We sleep during the day and creep when it's dark I once had to cry when I seen Tyrone die This black on black crime I cram to understand why Baby girls having kids in their teens Young fellows baggy jeans slinging crack to the crack fiends That's the type of lifestyle that I lead With my fams on the corner drinking beers and smoking weed Yo believe I been through all the struggles and the pain I'm ripping out my hairs and I can't get to my brain I want the gold teeth and chains I hustle with timberland boots and rainsuits when it rains Fools make your moves pay dues Give up your cheese you loose my baby boy need shoes Stepping to the CHEEKS you made an error You been to the "house of pain" now welcome to my yard of terror What you think I'm some s**a Word to him I stomp you out with my timb chukkas Who who you stepping to the lost boy crew Boy get stomped that a** is through (Chorus) See we live the street life Smoking blunts with the wife stay on point like a ....f**in knife Every day on rockaway is getting hotta I can't do what a wanna I do what I gotta Survive I might not be around in 95 See I was taught young to be strong and just strive So nowadays we packing guns We racking grimy hills for funds and I stash all my sons mons A little man to look after Taking rap as a joke but I see no laughter To man Charles Suitte and big tig in Atlanta and Va..... (Chorus)