Lyrics Doe Boy – Real Talk Pt. 3
Text:
2Pac:
We doing this shit from Cleveland to LA, nigga
Whatever you niggas want, we bringin’ it!
Thug Luv, nigga. What time is it?
It’s time to slay these bitch-made niggas!
They ain’t even knowing what type of niggas we is
Where my thugs at?
Doe Boy:
Fuck niggas talkin’ that shit, but I swear on my flag, nigga it ain’t on nothin’
I was 16 with a M-16, pull up on a fuck nigga start drummin’
Broke lil’ nigga we ain’t care about nothin’, when you see me just start runnin’
Just a lil’ nigga with a mask and a Glock, nigga that’s when them bands start comin’
Tool on deck, so back up
Cop run my name and called backup
Cause he know a nigga be strapped up
I’d never put that Mac up
100 round chopper, 30 rounds popper
You ain’t no shooter, you ain’t no robber
You ain’t no killer, you ain’t no shotta
What you shoot? What was you robbin’?
Stop flexin’, savage young nigga, I’m reckless
Fuck nigga come in my section, put you in a box no message. Headless!
I don’t really give 2-fucks about you
Nosey ass nigga, I was raised by the killers
Youngin’ 15 and he toting that 30
Had to multiply his fuckin’ niggas by two
Young nigga gangbangin’, in the hood flag hangin’, runnin’ with a 40 on his hip
Nighttime lookin’ for a lick. You was probably lookin’ for a bitch
Rattin’ ass nigga, you a snitch. See it in your eye you a bitch
Tote that Glock, 3 gon’ get shot. Get D niggas or you gon’ get got
Throwin’ head shots, give a fuck about an opp
Execute a nigga, make his kids can watch
Fuck ass niggas get dropped. Realest nigga rappin’ since Pac
I was really thuggin’ on the block. I was really sendin’ them shots
F-1, F-2, F-3, F-4, nigga even got a F-5
On the Firm, that ain’t no lie. Nigga try me gon’ die
Hate me, I don’t know why?
You don’t like being alive?
Mob boss nigga, I’m tired
Had the whole set go wild
Still on that same thing, Rubber Band Money Gang
Nigga wanna roll with’ me?, at yo’ brain
Nigga you lost it, Nigga don’t like to be cautious
Your hood’s probably the softest. Start with us, ain’t no pausin’
Hater on my dick, get off me. Before a nigga hide in your closet
I ain’t gon’ do no talkin’. Answer this gun, it’s callin’
