Real Rap

Lyrics

[Verse 1: G.T.] Real rap (Real rap), all facts (All facts) Dope spots got me pullin' Gucci off my back (Ayy, ayy, ayy) Dice game every day, nigga, bet it, bet Fall through the club, let her sit her pussy on my lap I want a Wraith, I want a jet I don't want you around, you don't run up a check Flew through the bag, gon' hit the set New Louis bag with the checks, that ain't get her wet Yeah, runnin' through the dope like it's '86 The clio fell in love with that grape shit Hit the Bay wrong way, no delay, bitch (No delay) In 63 with tint, me and Philthy Rich You gotta watch these niggas, they switch quick (Uh-huh) If they ain't talkin' 'bout no cake, they ain't talkin' shit It's crazy I'll get paid just to talk shit Niggas say they got bricks, barely got zips How you rap about some shit that you don't do? I guess niggas really rapping over Pro Tools I put the work back together with my blow tools Could step on it, but I ain't got on my blow shoes It's real raw, nigga, not no fentanyl Tired of gettin' fucked over? Then give me a call Bro packed them niggas down, they might be the law And it's a thousand motherfuckers waitin' on me to fall [Verse 2: Eastside Reup & Peezy] Ayy, this real rap, nigga, no lie That dog get you anything that you wanna buy Wrap 'em up and send 'em out, we let birds fly View of the town, yeah, the crib got a bird's-eye How these niggas rappin' shit that they don't do? I was that nigga walkin' 'round with forty in my shoes Left pocket full of dubs, right all blues Get to that money, we ain't worried 'bout what y'all do (Naw, naw) [?] fence in wheat Timbs, I'm in grind mode Run to that chicken, I can count it with my eyes closed If you ain't in it for the money, what you grind for? I'm up early workin' in a whole 'nother timezone (Ayy) Nigga [Verse 3: Peezy] This that real rap, nigga, no lie Go'n put it on the scale and make sure it's right (Add it up) Jeans costed me a band, ho, I know they tight Was on Collins in a Wraith when they was on they bikes Raf Simons on my feet, sippin' on that muddy (Drank) Bitches cost me five hundred even though they ugly At the gamblin' house shootin' even though they cuttin' Best friends with the shooters, if I call, they coming (Yeah) Caught the cases, stood tall, I ain't let it break me (Fuck naw) Hit me when they touch down, to let me know they made it (Okay) Still show them niggas love even though they hate me (Fuck it) R.I.P. my nigga Mox, and free my nigga 80's (Free him)