Hoping my thug motherf**ers know This be the realest sh** I never wrote Up in my studio, getting blowed To the illest sh** I ever spoke [x2] They say I’m the 2Pac of Texas And you ain’t gotta like it, but I bet you gon’ respect it I really be one deep, it ain’t just hanging off my necklace I need to take a sh**, but my schedule be so hectic Them people, trying to send me up the road again They don’t wanna see me, drive my Bentley up the road again Racist motherf**ers, when I go to court they show me then They know I’m innocent, but they don’t give a f** Z-Ro won’t win And then they wonder why, my attitude the way it is I’m rich but they still think I’ma rob em, that’s just the way it is Leave church on a Sunday, they don’t give a f** what day it is In front of me and behind me, I can tell what type of day this is It’s a shame, I gotta walk around with bond money I ain’t got a receipt, though the crooked cop gon’ take some from me He say he smell that loud, I told him find it and let me know I smelled it too but he couldn’t find it, and had to let me go Hoping my thug motherf**ers know This be the realest sh** I never wrote Up in my studio, getting blowed To the illest sh** I ever spoke [x2] 21 gun salute, dressed in black gators and an Italian cut suit When the cameras start flashing, I’ll disappear into the crowd like poof These lil’ rappers round town, think they live like me Hope they survive, and they get to see 39 like me Even gotta hustle in your sleep, to be on your grind like me Turn into sunlight dipped in chrome, that’s how you shine like me They living fantasies n***a, but this the real world here Where all the grown women at, ain’t nothing but lil’ girls here These realty shows got all these hoes, acting like thots And Facebook is the brand new power, that’s why relationships flop And instead of breaking up or fight, we record it and holla Worldstar Coulda saved a life, instead another d**h on Worldstar If Martin Luther King came back, I wonder what he would say Cops k** us we riot, when we k** each other it’s okay We need to get our priorities in line Or be a grandparent, ‘fore you realize we was running out of time the whole time Hoping my thug motherf**ers know This be the realest sh** I never wrote Up in my studio, getting blowed To the illest sh** I ever spoke [x2]