Master P - It's Real lyrics

[Chorus] Keeping this real Oh baby, keeping its real Oh baby, keeping its real Oh baby, keeping its real Keeping its real [Brotha Lynch Hung] I put you up n***a, don't trip You did your work for that mark and he left you in the dark Skydiving in a bulletproof parachute No remorse left you hanging, easy aiming lockdown Shoot, the clock sounds two One minute till I'm in it got a business Fill they a** to d**h and get my scrilla in the corner none left Shots out to my n***a in the penn getting switch That whack b**h tried to stop a n***a from getting rich You can dig a ditch but you won't find sh** Left you in flames, kept you roach, you can smell the sh** when I Approach I be off that stanky sack of indonesia It's an evidential, I leave you hungry eat your cheesa Heard you was sweet like an almond joy And I know you heard of me cause I'm a west coast bad boy And I'm a sick n***a, sick made (made) It gets real as I pull the pin out this grenade (nade) Body parts like the movie old school oozie Rip your arms out from the elbows n***a I smell those green leaves Those sick thieves, a twenty sack of green weed Is all I need, I make you bleed, I take your green I know you got it from the ice cream man Before you make that transaction I need to cash in my hand (god damn) And if you don't we can do the murder man dance Under any circumstance I'm a have your pans [Chorus] [Master P] Brotha Lynch, I'm a make you a deal you can't refuse My phone tapped the new code for hafts and hoes Is t-shirts and tennis shoes from the yay I got the sneaker 65 for a shoe n***a you got the tweaker Meet me down south, new orleans we bumping I get this b**h jumping, you got the money I got the g's, flip the keys and the oz's We can blow some weed, and talk about that sh** smoking some trees But watch your back, keep your handlebar on co*k Too many federal agents pretend to be hustlers but really cops Send across the border n***a like taco bell Pulling a plane or boat, UPS, n***a I could get it there I'm surrounded by co*ktails, i mean hoes in mini skirts Ain't no free dick out here, it's time to put in work Put these hoes on a grayhound, fool if it's going down And make em bring it back from my hood to your town And it's all good, n***a it's like wax And we can slang these records like motherf**ing crack And if they bumping we gotta keep them jumping Cause it's all about the chedder, the cheese and the money [Chorus] [Mr. Serv-On] A criminal tatted from front to back, always bout my jack Doin a dope deal, forget to bring your strap, let it be fact I blast first, I know no n***a that slugs in a hurst, who cursed My dope and money I'm leaving more blood stains then a stove Be my wife, live your life Till d**h do us part, start my gangsta bounce, 36 ounce To a key, got this d.o. dick in your face to tell me the f** else you Got free A thousand pounds of that skunk, ready to jump, smokin everything I Can't hump Master P and Brotha Lynch Hung Let me serve some dip to these n***as with thier tongues out Eighteen five in the south Twenty four in the east, see my scrilla blow like geese Cross my fingers for my wife, it's hot tonight A murder case got away with a hundred g's and a couple of wild geeks Headed west Kapish, a hundred cluckers awaiting my arrival Dirty survival [Chorus]