Real People

Lyrics

*Talking* [Verse 1: Masta Killa] Oh you want more gun play You wanna see me muder something broad day Here, lay down when you hear the sound, gun to the back of his head now Down front both knee, one two or three Squeeze trigger, crowd scream witnessing murdering, how dare you Never disrespect my family, I'll rep mine til the last breath that's physically Mine of a last, my sons they still blast they blast, they [?] than me Livin' out the legacy of me, that's how it gotta be Still killa heads in the first realm, man down, [?] Bushwick, Bed-Stuy, Brownsville, ENY Crown Heights, Flatbush, Red Hook, people shook Suspect my Brooklyn always good looking From the ground we get like when jews get [?] [Chorus: Masta Killa] From Brooklyn to LA and back to Queens Real people do real things, it's the thing And if you never [?] family of principle You won't get handled and dealt with Simple [Verse 2: Prodigy] They want that murder sixteen, I got that Me, rap killa pristine [?] homicide bangers for all of them gangsta Real shit , bodied this, and target the next one I got my crosshair on every kick snare Every hi-hat, baseline should be scared This is war literature, make me literally Destroy niggas on and off beat, enough game Now let me get seriously, on my shit on my gorilla grizzly With these crowbars, flow hard like heavy blood loss Spit [?] yo Prodigy, nasty God MK, MVP will pass you off to the repo For making them bullshit songs (fuck outta here) Old pussy ass nigga, you soft And shorty want it hard and she want it all night long [Verse 3: KXNG CROOKED] I got all in my game in the backseat of a Chevy Cause in Long Beach you just gotta pack heat and be ready In the backstreet with the Desi, heavy as Shaq's feet Niggas run like athletes at a track meet All ya hats leaking spaghetti Obtain in my [?] activist rapper, nobel is ready, I'm Doc Strange Pull up at the million man march in a box range Cause I won't change but I got change, my block [?] I'm still sipping dark Bacardi, I'm still darker than Marcus Garvey I still start to party like yardy Bust shots for cops, wanna give me 25 with a kickstand But I'd rather park the Harley Walk in, Levi's creased up Pair of mean chucks, blinged up like King Tut Knowledge of self, I college my self Without a father to help, West Coast shit And poppers and wealth Killa [Chorus: Masta Killa] From Brooklyn to LA and back to Queens Real people do real things, it's the thing And if you never [?] family of principle You won't get handled and dealt with