If It Ain’t Real

Lyrics

[Intro: Messy Marv, San Quinn] Yeah, Fillmore in the motherfuckin' house Crestside (Crestside) The Rompalation That's how we do thangs GLP represent with Messy Marv Fillmore in the hidnouse, you understand what I'm sayin'? On The Rompalation, if it ain't real, it ain't right Phony motherfuckers out here, you understand what I'm sayin'? But we gon' keep the game tight We tighter and laced like two boots We ain't new recruits in this shit, you understand me? On The Rompalation, nigga [Verse 1: Messy Marv] Feds and the ATF, they try to clown 'Cause we connected Fillmore with the 3C's down Nigga, I gets around Mac Dre, you know these niggas'll love to playa hate But watch the Glock bounce, rock and skate Through they cranium and travel to they mid-brain More murder (More murder), more cocaine (More cocaine) That's the theme, came thicker than Gold Medal flour Y'all got the game mixed up, it's the money then the power And these good-for-nothing bitches come along with the riches And on your safe, that hoe is plottin' for the digits Y'all got it twisted, like Mac Mall, get some Get Right And dump on that ho, .45 Calico infrared light The game ain't right, a Fillmore nigga stick to the script Never trust a bitch with your sack, a cuddie around your stack And sees this cat, from the F-I-double-L-M-O-iggidy To the 7-0-Siggidy, Seff tha Gaffla, San Quinn and young Miggidy You niggas ain't feelin' me, my nigga Coolio put me in the giggidy From the SF-siggidy, to the V, if it ain't real it ain't riggidy [Verse 2: Coolio Da' Unda' Dogg] Well, it's the Unda' Dogg, with the shit that'll make you wonder, dog How in the fuck he spit like this, well make way, 'cause here comes a hog See, ain't no slackin' up in my stackin', steadily mackin' And I'm gettin' my propers on for makin' you up a proper song And nevertheless, I'm smokin' my zest and drinkin' up on that Tanqueray Or separators, that Kahlua, milk and E&J So what they say, they know who's keepin' it real, nigga From the L.A. to the Bay, from the Crestside to the Fill', nigga Messy Marv, Seff tha Gaffla and San Quinn done did it Hooked up with Mac Dre and Coolio, bustas can't get with it Come in on this mic, I spit it on this mic, I shitted on this mic And keepin' it tight, if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 3: Seff the Gaffla] Man, I came way across the Bay to do this shit with Mac Dre Fillmore, Califor-ni-a, the place the Gaffla stay Many dues I had to pay, several cats I had to slay Turned out a few shows, got sprayed with the pepper spray Everything is okay, my lifestyle brings me riches Me and Mess in a Lex, while the Quinn pops the bitches My cousin Kelly on the phone with Julio Damn, who made this beat? It's my nigga Coolio So do your duty, ho; respect a nigga to the fullest Every time we walk through, all you wanna do is pull us So what you think? Do you bitches have some time? Better yet, do you hoes have a dime? Bein' broke is a grind, that's why we all comin' tight Bitches keep your shit tight; if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 4: Naked] It's your Crestside potna in this bitch off the heezy Doin' what I do, stayin' true to the 3C's Which is we evaded D's, makin' G's, takin' these Livin' experiences, such as shakin' ki's Breakin' these bitches in a vicious fashion The name is Naked, respect it or get a lashin' I'm back and forth from the studio to the dope track So when I grab the mic, why should I hold back? I sold crack, way before they called it yay Done been to prison, now I'm back with my boy Mac Dre Stackin' pay as I say my say and do my dues An actual factual motherfucker, I thought you knew [Verse 5: San Quinn] It never stop, it never quit, so represent my residence To the highest, we the flyest motherfuckers since United Not divided but unified, retaliate to the murder, I Hope they let kill it when I be feelin' what's inside my ass Quick to blast, slow to speak, we can grip or chunk 'em Heated discussions always lead to somethin' that might be dumpin' Pumpin' raw 'caine to the veins without a flaw (Without a flaw) I answer y'all so profane how I came to your fuckin' jaw Haters can't get around me, I sport that sucker repellent From a mile away, I spot a sucker smellin' like he jealous Well of us goodfellas, we only goodfellas The hotelers will forever be drug sellers and dank smokers Too ferocious to approach in the wrong fashion We mashin', assassins, a silence with violence Is life, bitches get macked, riches get stacked Since I'm on the track, I say the true facts From the Bay to Montego, servin' this game to my people That's lethal, you know how we do, nigga [Verse 6: Juggy] On your marks, get set, you suckers better get ready I'm steppin' out your dreams like a nigga named Freddy Krueger, the name rhymes with 9-millimeter Luger And fuckin' with mine, punk nigga, I'll do ya 3C's down is where I chill at, get my scrill at Stay real at, and every day I get scratch It's like an itch, and I'm addicted So Lord could you please help me get this Monkey off my back before I gets my gat Put it to your dome, and dare you to talk back Ain't no slackin' on my pimpin', bitch, don't put up a fight A nigga gots to come tight, if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 7: Mac Dre] It's the Mac named Dre from the C-R-E-S-T (C-R-E-S-T) Gettin' dough with my folks from the 'Moe, young Messy (Messy) Marv and we starvin' for more dollars (More dollars) So we pimps a bitch and get ho dollars (Ho dollars) See, I love to floss but keep it real though (Keep it real though) Droppin' sauce with boss playas from Fillmore (Fillmore) Now pay close attention as I put this script down And rap about these suckers and these bitches that kick down I'm Mac Dre, and I'm hooked with the Romp crew (Romp crew) And getting' filthy rich off a bitch is what Romp do (Romp do) Playa haters hate to see a young brotha ridin' (Young brotha ridin') From the other side, you hear 'run, brotha, hide' (Run, brotha, hide) 'Cause I be servin' motherfuckers with this Double-R press game (Double-R press game) A goddamn savage comin' straight out the Crest, mayne (Straight out the Crest, mayne) 3C soldier Double-R for life (Double-R for life) And if it ain't real, cuddie, you know it ain't right