Tony "T-Funk" Pearyer - n***as and b**hes lyrics

[ VERSE 1: Jayo Felony ] I knew I was gone before they even put the handcuffs on A whole chicken in the back of the Brougham Rocked up, so I knew that I was locked up Got a good lawyer but can't do nothin for ya But they got chronic, I chills and get my puff on Eat Ramen, hit my fifi, lift weights and get my buff on These hoochies are trippin but I expect that, see All on another fool's jock but they can't get a dime from me But you my gee, see, and we supposed to be tight So why the f** you didn't send me no kite? I been down for two and ain't heard a thing from you See, that ain't the thang to do, let's keep this bangin true, blue If it was you, you would want me to do the same thing How you gon' slip and leave your homie on the hang? I gots no time for you busters and you snitches This is for the real - n***as and the b**hes [ VERSE 2: Jayo Felony ] I had a down one, she kept my books on fat We used to do it like this, then we would do it like that This is for the real, to hell with the faker I was on my bunk bed bumpin Anita Baker Wishin I was in a hot thub gettin my back rubbed Instead of bein in here with 4'000 thugs I remember all the letters you wrote and the cards you sent And them ends when you had to pay rent But you would always get yours and couldn't nothin stop ya Tight Guess and K-Swiss lookin proper And you were proud to be Ms. Bullet Loco Fool, don't phantasize off my foto Even though you knew I was mackin you still stuck with me Remindin me to stay s**er free And when I touched down you kickin in straight riches This is for the real - n***as and the b**hes [ VERSE 3: Jayo Felony ] And now I'm fresh out, I was a C but they doubt me Much love to the b**hes that didn't forget about me Because I surely won't forget about you And everybody knows what the f** I'm gon' do Blow up from the flo' up, grow up and don't be to' up The hoes that tried to clown, I diss them hookers like throw-up I'm tryin to learn to keep my black a** on the streets No more shackles on my feet Makin funky hits like this I can't miss Jam-Master Jay and T-Funk and my n***a Cool Chris So when I'm at a picnic gettin my mob on Don't walk up on me, we might have to get our squab on And my female got a mouthpiece Protection for the wicked streets of Southeast My day is too short for you marks and you snitches This is for the real - n***as and the b**hes