Letra de What's Real
1977 Wasn't no cocaine in my hood yet The brothers were stuck on chuck without a mindset I got tired of watching Good Times, feeling Like JJ, I'm standing in the food bank line My momma was riding on the bus trying to get to work Early in the morning, it's cold and her knees hurt She got a.38 sitting in her purse 'cause My moms was the King County jail nurse So how in the hell could you tell, Minx, that I never lived this When you was just a snotty-nosed age six young buck just graduated? And you're lying when you say you're street educated 'Cause I'm a veteran, boy, and you's a new booty So stop fronting to your friends like you knew me 'Cause you don't and you never did, kid So fuck your respect and the shit you claim you did So are you real when you're claiming you gangbang? Doing everything to gain fame and get yourself a name But I done seen my homies getting smoked over dice Games when you were still at home doing nice things Back in the days of turtle wax on Cadillacs Life to a brother was hoes and MACs I had to come up some way Pimp daddies and ex-Black Panthers used to school me While Moms was putting in eight to 12, I was In the hood getting schooled on making mail I can't let my moms die a poor Black sister Gotta make her richer So tell me what's real, partner? You gonna buy me a motherfucking car? So what's real, fool? You gonna buy me a motherfucking car? Back when MLK way was Empire Way, I was stuck on broke but I used to Hear the pimps say, "Better get what you can get before you get got Come up and snatch yours and buy yourself a nice Spot." And that stuck in my head to this day, G So I apply pimp game to life, you see? But I ain't beating on my sister in the streets I'ma focus on my real enemy Yeah So if I'm pimping, then who's my hoies In DC living in a big white house, bro? Changes his name every four years Mr Carter caught me slipping, but Reagan wasn't getting his I never wanted a handout, young Jake I never got jealous over how much a brother makes So I was on my own, no love in the school Zone, no Blacks in the books, so I'm gone And now the only color that I love is green, see 'Cause my history books never taught me about me I may not like where I've been, but I'm loving where I am Prime rib, fuck Spam So tell me what's real, partner? You gonna buy me a motherfucking car? So what's real, fool? Yeah, I'd much rather be behind the mic than the gat, but The simple fact that my pockets is fat means I can't relax You know what I'm saying? Criticized by the mainstream for not being the House jig and keeping things squeaky clean But I can't so I ain't But I won't play the hard role just because you think That it's real to say you kill when you never held steel You try to sag when you're rolling in cake feel Back in the days, you was break dancing, see I remember when you had tight pants, G So Mr Rap Critic, when you tries to check me about my Cars and my girls, claiming you never could Respect me, you really think I give a damn, partner? The shit I've been through, man I used to roll with the hoes, hit the Caddy and slam the doors Living alone, cellular phone, having no furniture in my home Rolling to Canada, making my mail, giving a trick a piece of tail Living it large, keeping it hard, life was kind of odd And rat-a-tat-tat with my gat that sat in my lap, G The Hilton Hotel was my spot, I'm running my thing, see I went from hustling cheese to double Platinum LPs but you still can't feel me Boy, the head don't get fat if you know where you're at Instead of riding my back, check your own dat and that's facts Now what's real, partner? So what's real? Yeah, to all you clowns running around Town telling people me and yous was down When I was doing parties at the Boys Club You were selling matchbooks and weed, partner I was about handling my business and You was about smoking your goodness So check yourself you want to see the big head, champ And that's real to the fullest and I'm out