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Текст песни Lost Boyz - Keep it Real

Lost Boyz - Keep it Real слова песни

[Mr.CHEEKS]Yo believe I paid the dues man I started in the gameWith mans on linden and devane we drinking ghetto champagneSlinging rocks and packing glocks on the blocksIt`s early in the morning I`m selling tumbs from my reeboksTres nicks and dimes I write rhymesBut the ghetto times they got the cheeks doing crimesThe street life yeah that`s the only life I knowWhere niggas sling rocks bust shots and push yeahyoSit on crates keep their backs against gatesEvery man is insane he`s got a brain like norman batesTimberland boots ski hats we pack gatsCarry across town because we tapping niggas hoodratsBut they don`t want the famSee a south side jamaica queen fellas get down manListen so what your crew is x-ratedPeoples if you violate you getting violated(Chorus)Come on and keep it real; this is sayingthat the lost boy and group home fam want it all what would you doAnd if you feel that you`se a real soldier from the streetthrow your hand in the air we salute youBounce it up town bounce it down southBounce bounce it up town bounce it down southI had a messed up childhood the head is mad nappyI need money in a snap gee kid I`m trying to blow like papiFat cat the street life is where it`s atPeeling caps so yo we got to stay strappedTerrified cause the crew from the south side is bustinNo questionI keep my hear in braids taliq got dreadsHangin out in the reds wearing levis and pro-kedsPouring beer on the curb for the deadI had to bring drama to some powder head(Freaky TAH) hey yo cut the music down Yo half the world thought the album failed in this 94 and its on..I`m smoking weed in 96` with my peepsJetting from the police cause police they`se a bunch of creepsI`m testing off the new burners in the parkWe sleep during the day and creep when it`s darkI once had to cry when I seen Tyrone dieThis black on black crime I cram to understand whyBaby girls having kids in their teensYoung fellows baggy jeans slinging crack to the crack fiendsThat`s the type of lifestyle that I leadWith my fams on the corner drinking beers and smoking weedYo believe I been through all the struggles and the painI`m ripping out my hairs and I can`t get to my brainI want the gold teeth and chainsI hustle with timberland boots and rainsuits when it rains.Fools make your moves pay duesGive up your cheese you loose my baby boy need shoesStepping to the CHEEKS you made an errorYou been to the “house of pain” now welcome to my yard of terrorWhat you think I`m some suckaWord to him I stomp you out with my tim chukkasWho who you stepping to the lost boy crewBoy get stomped that ass is through(Chorus)See we live the street lifeSmoking blunts with the wife stay on point like a ....Every day on rockaway is getting hottaI can`t do what a wanna I do what I gottaSurvive I might not be around in 95See I was taught young to be strong and just striveSo nowadays we packing gunsWe racking grimy hills for funds and I stash all my sons monsA little man to look afterTaking rap as a joke but I see no laughterTo man Charles Suitte and big tig in Atlanta and Va.....(Chorus)

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