Lil Scrappy - Be Real (Feat. Bohagon)

Be Real If you a thug my nigga be a thug if you sell drugs my nigga then sell drugs if you gonna rap about it be trill about it and dont say shit if you can't BE REAL about it Comin up as a child my city was hell My moma was the best soldier, dad stayed in out of jail I came robbin and kickin in doors then on my behalf and 17 old But ya see shorty, My mom was a G she made it real easy for my sista and me She did what she had to do, and got out the damn crowd like a nigga would do Talkin about pimpin, o she did that too I got robbed and this old nigga took all my loot And I was just 12 years old on 13 skin and bones thats why I thank my heart to sell dope I gives a fuck about none of you hoes All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold, and pressin these doors (shorty) and cakin these hoes Ima pimp, I spend my time makin these hoes Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself A nigga thinkin bout change comtemplating my death Fell my pain as it reigns all over a nigga and the only way I can get away is weed and liquor Fukin niggaz up on the daily if they didnt pay me Niggaz pullin guns on me damn near drove me crazy Young nigga went to school just to sell some dope A lil crazy ass nigga wit a knife in his coat And in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially moma swung on a nigga, I stabbed the bitch in her head (nigga) I dun scratch my head unless it itchs an I dun smoke unless I'm bustin at you hatin bitchs nigga we was brave to die, dont be askin me why Ill rather hustle in the cold cuz niggaz sprayin wit fire All the childhood fixins wit tha devil inside the kitchen Got my mind on my gun and I'm finna pull a pistol You see the streets, they'll shallow you whole, mind body and soul And leave you in a ditch wit no shoes and clothes Waitin for the trash collector Follow me mind selector to the ghetto sector They'll kill you over thirty dollars I seen a man cut wit a dirty bottle blood squirted on his shirt and collar I heard him holla a sound that I cant forget Ran home, watched cartoons and ain't said shit And to this day moma thought I was young, hungry, and poor (par) while she was at the church praising the lord I made through amazingly unscarred She had to be praying cuz I made it by the grace of the god Im proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes Bible in one hand, the other hand 9 dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine