2013 BET Hip Hop Awards - Real Husbands Of Hollywood Cypher

Lyrics

[Intro: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)] Cypher start, but they can't start without a sound Drama give me that sound, J.B, let's go [Verse 1: J.B. Smoove] Yo, son, you wanna see me? Grab a smartphone and IMDB me I was real long before the show, haha My wife, Shah, she'll let you know Don't question me, you better act like ya heard Had enthusiasm [?] long before Curb Cartoon voices, I bring to life Robot Chicken, Black Dynamite A show called The League and another called Bent That's not my resume, it's only a dent So I'm about to get paid in season three Or no J.B. on BET, oh [?] and I won't quit J.B. is the motherfuckin' shit, you know how I roll I step on stages, I'm amazin' The people be like, "[?] move your ass so crazy" Don't hold me back, I'm about to get ill J.B. Smoove [?] motherfuckin' real [?] [Interlude: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)] Calm down, J Calm down [Verse 2: Duane Martin] Last year, breakaway suit New gear, breakaway boots Car that I drive got a breakaway roof When I get old I got the breakaway tooth Got the breakaway show, breakaway spoof I'm from Brooklyn, so you know I'm 'bout the truth Yo, we so hot Other networks not Started from the bottom, now we at the top Real Husbands got the number one spot We so conceited 'Cause the other shows conceded [Interlude: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)] Breakaway suits, the cypher continues [Verse 3: Boris Kodjoe] Sowas habt ihr noch nie gesehen Das Jahr des Ochsen in China, 1973 Mutter Deutsch und der Vater aus Ghana, das ist Afrika Und ich geh nach Amerika Ein Traum, kaum zu glauben bis ich da war No regrets it's a blessin' To share messagin' in my native language, and All of these fools don't know what I'm sayin', though Checkin' the subtitles while watchin' their own show Who's the tallest? The ballest? The one with the flawless The finest, the halfest, the wideness [?] The German chocolatest, the ab checkers The one who nevertheless can teach you all some culture facts "Real" is "echter", "husband" is "Ehemann" Hollywood really dummy? Hollywood is Hollywood They call us mitches with attitude Who's they? Who do you think? It's Kev, makes him feel good [Interlude: Kevin Hart & Nick Cannon] It just got real The cypher continues Yeah Let's go Nick That's a monkey with him We gon' Wild Out, I appreciate you How you gonna talk about my staff like that? Don't take none of this ish personally man [Verse 4: Nick Cannon] Yo I guess Nelly said "It's hot in here," 'cause Kev took his shirt off Question for his chest, though—how you get that bird off? Kevin Hart, definition of a jerk off Fuck Chocolate Drop, your name Hershey Squirt Off Bunch of mitches, watch me get this work off Fuck rappin', y'all should've had a twerk off But I'ma tell ya like this real tight Matter fact we'll have a battle tonight I'm better than all y'all, on top like a satellite Matter fact none of y'all even had a wife Y'all brought knives to a mothafuckin' cannon fight I done told you, I done had them right And if ya wanna get with than spit it Your facial expression look like you just shitted So I'll repeat, sucka sucka sucka And I never liked you anyway, you pretty mothafucka Nino Brown shit, yeah, I said it [Interlude: Kevin Hart] Well I thought we were all together today The cypher continues [Verse 5: Nelly] How I see now I'm the one they expect to spit No boss thus far, no Ross, no Rick K-I-N-G, shout out to Tip The only rapper in this bitch, no disrespect to Nick More heart than Kevin, mo' tall and all The realest husband in Hollywood, no wife at all Above the rim before Duane could crawl I was soul foodin' chicks before Boris was tall Not all, now here's the news I pick 'em up and drop 'em off to school Larry David made J.B. smooth I let J.B. hang with me and now J.B.'s cool You got a fool in your crew? Nigga, please, my whole crew is the fool Season one was the shit, too cool Now season two, yeah, a nigga renewed And, uh, keep that to yourself And just watch me as I pat the wealth And, uh, step back with the Versace scarf And, uh, no tip, no biff, no barf Nigga what you say? Check the mise Is them pants leather? So is mines [Verse 6: Chocolate Droppa] Ayy, check We saved the best for the last, so let's get it Droppa, hold the beat for a second, so I can spit it Matter fact, keep it goin' I'm about to get raw, let's go We wear white cause doves cry This ain't your alibi Smack your girl then say "haha" Take it back, 'cause I wanna say "bye" Saw you last week, didn't like your face Saw you this week in the same place That mean I don't travel That mean I stay in the same place Got your spit in your face I got your girl lookin' [?] is you wearin' all lace? Buck, buck, bing, bing, that's a gun, homie Look at you, what you wanna do? Run, homie I'm mad, I'm glad At the same time feelin' all sad I miss my dad And sometimes that shit make me mad But I'm back to bein' a real nigga Spittin' like I'm Tommy Hilfiger Didn't like my clothes, so I took 'em off Now look at me, cough cough That mean I'm sick Yeah, I'm too legit to quit Like Hammer without the dance moves I'm looking at you and J.B. Smoove Yeah, run, run homie Yeah, that's Bobby Brown, homie Yeah, he is the king I'm doin' this, 'cause he's a chicken wing, oh I'm on fire now Look at me, man, put me out now If you don't then say it won't stop Man, at the end of the day it's Chocolate Droppa Fuck you, man I miss my dad, yo