Music Video

Tha Realness
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Group Home
Group Home
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Chris Martin
Chris Martin
Composer
Jamal Felder
Jamal Felder
Composer
James Heath
James Heath
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Premier
DJ Premier
Producer

Lyrics

Check it out, the realness Yeah, yeah The foundation, B&B kid, 183rd Yo, yo, my mind rate metallurgy like a nigga upstate That's pushing mad years of crazy weight I penetrate the shit that you love to hate Time to meet your fate no time to negotiate I meditate in my room, holdin' on map Hopin' that a revolution is comin' soon The smoke consumes my brothers holdin' grudges Walkin' in courts I and throw at the judges And my cousin is on the run from '89 The pigs came to my crib and said they found a bloody nine With your fingerprints on the evidence Fuck that let's go to the roof and bust off the macs I want a Lex and clean sex And every apartment furnishin' the whole projects I don't regret becomin' a MC My only regret the real Ghetto Child memory My man Lil' Dap, comes equipped Mobb Deep Shook Ones part 2 Yeah, Nut Cracker, yo, comes equipped Yeah, Brainsick Mob, comes equipped A Mob, yo, comes equipped Yo, I've been brakin' you brothers just to reach the top Can't stop hip hop runnin' through these veins East New York style one love to the streets Beatin' down all these rappers like cookers upon the beat Chicks like my T L C 'cause they like the way I Creep When your man leave home I rock that ass to sleep It's a New York thing mad love from Brainsick When we're walking through the ghetto and we're poppin' some shit I'm on my way goin' home drinkin' a Heineken Back to the destination where it all begin 'Get these motherfuckers off before I brake them in And for you fish ass niggas we're not havin' it Yo, Nut, you know the feelin' when things ain't right When these non fiction niggas start to rap on the mic I keep shit to myself and keep it real with the game Fake niggas hang around but they get no fame, check it out, uh The realness Let me show you what the fucks goin' on in this so called game I'll leave you dead the only thing you feel is the pain From the man collectin' elevatin' his stacks My name is Black if you front get your wig pushed back I speak the truth plus I keep it sharf for my fam Like Conan choppin' niggas up on this jam The beat is cook so stupid niggas open your eyes I'm on the rise check it Brainsick Enterprise I keep it movin' and can't shit hold me back I'm on your map I bet you didn't even know that Slow your role ease back up don't play bold 'Cause if you see me black the star I got total control Comin' through with the Sick, yeah, we click, click, click Me and my partner Jack the Ripper, yeah, we on some shit And I know you can't hang so don't ride my dick 'Cause I comes equipped with that Brainsick shit I go deep into my mind and then I starts to flip Blowin' up ain't shit watch your bitch get hit From the brainstorm so let it storm let it storm When my lyrics digest and rip through your fuckin' chest So while you sweatin', I be wreckin' plus I can't be stopped I wanna rule hip hop an blow a hole in the chart Keep it movin' 'cause you know, Jack do it right Flippin' mic after mic then I call it the night So what's my destination? Yo, to make it not fake it Livin' in this fuckin' world is like total domination To all my niggas in the east yo Ray rest in peace Make your heart skip a bet because my sound is unique No hesitation because your ass will get hit So I will take yours and I will take his Now you niggas now what the fuck the real is The realness
Writer(s): Christopher E Martin, Jimmy Heath, Jamal Felder Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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