Trunk Shit

Lyrics

[Verse 1 : Von Pea] Welcome to the real, bearers of your bad news We appreciate the no, ain't nobody ask you We are how you get the cheerleaders in the band room Pioneers thru the Pioneers in a mass Who's messing with the lesson author This is no departure, this is for arrivals Pull up throw your hood up If you do it for survival Nevermind a side view Niggas know the profile Fans I don't lie to Liable to chastize guys with the haikus Lessondary in here All of them are fly too Skinny Big in philly getting beats from my guy who Told you on "Peas Gotta" he knew we were right You slept it's aight duke Even if im chose last Imma hit the winning shot All of you can note that Should I slow it down some and if so how come? Is it 'cause your favorite is afraid to be outdone He know not to call us Yeah we put in all us Shorty heard we bought the toys out and got dolled up Phasing out you groupies I don't wanna tag her walls up She be letting rappers Foursquare in her nah bruh Geotag that ass its Von Pea CI to Long Beach We rhyme with all heat 'Til we in them floor seats But things I do is real it never haunts me Beat Street, Wall Street iI'll meet em at the cross street [Chorus] This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit) This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit) Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing (trunk shit) Hit the detail shop man the whip so clean Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing Find a parking spot and let the beats just bang (trunk shit) [Verse 2: Donwill] I'm in an all white Chevy with the dual exhaust And the speakers ain't bolted so it rattle and cough But when my sneakers ain't speaking, the whip it talks I ain't pay that much, it don't matter the cost 'cus what's a few stacks? a small set back for the champ Had to pull over, fuck around, ya boy blew an amp And the backpack in the back seat by the notepad Boom bap blasting out the speakers They say that we a tribe called De La, or smaller little brother All i know is that we do it better than the others Spell my name right my nigga show us that you love it I'm talking mine and the group, not one or the other Come on and get the name right before you claim that you know us 30 rock this is not, we the other morgan Matter fact scratch that and call it TM for short I need an ink pen for sport and a weekend resort Off the deep end of thought, often sleeping on Don "Not Him!?!", pretend I'm not hot be defending yours I been, on my shit for a decade plus Too long? nah nigga. you? not long enough Yup! The new school veteran just dusted off the letterman Consider these crowbars in case they don't let us in To pop locks and stop all that Re-Run shit Y'all some jogging ass niggas homie we run this… Trunk shit [Chorus] This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit) This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit) Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing (trunk shit) Hit the detail shop man the whip so clean Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing Find a parking spot and let the beats just bang (trunk shit)