Lil' Scrappy Be Real Lyrics

The King of Crunk & BME Recordings Present Welcome to Trillville USA Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Trillville Radio
  • 2 Neva Eva
  • 3 Get Some Crunk in Your System
  • 4 Goodbye
  • 5 Weakest Link
  • 6 Bathroom
  • 7 Bitch Niggaz
  • 8 Dookie Love
  • 9 Some Cut
  • 10 The Hood
  • 11 Crank It
  • 12 What the Fuck
  • 13 Head Bussa
  • 14 Bootleg
  • 15 No Problem
  • 16 Dookie Love Public Service Announcement
  • 17 F.I.L.A.
  • 18 Crunk Radio
  • 19 Diamonds in My Pinky Ring
  • 20 Be Real
  • 21 Gone
  • [Chorus: x2]
    If you a thug my ***** be a thug
    If you sell drugs my ***** then sell drugs
    If you gonna rap about it be trill about it
    And don't say **** 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 ***** would do
    Talkin' about pimpin', o she did that too
    I got robbed and this old ***** took all my loot
    And I was just twelve years old on thirteen skin and bones
    That's why I thank my heart to sell dope
    I gives a **** about none of you hoes
    All you fake thugs think about is grills and gold,
    And pressin' these doors
    (shorty) and cakin these hoes
    I'ma pimp, I spend my time makin' these hoes


    Nobody loves me so I guess I stay to myself
    A ***** thinkin' bout change contemplating my death
    Fell my pain as it reigns all over a *****
    And the only way I can get away is weed and liquor
    ****in' *****s up on the daily if they didn't pay me
    *****s pullin' guns on me damn near drove me crazy
    Young ***** went to school just to sell some dope
    A lil' crazy *** ***** wit a knife in his coat
    And in the streets broke heathens went through drama especially
    Moma swung on a *****, I stabbed the ***** in her head (*****)
    I dun scratch my head unless it itchs
    An I dun smoke unless I'm bustin' at you hatin' *****es
    ***** we was brave to die, don't be askin' me why
    Ill rather hustle in the cold 'cause *****s sprayin' wit' fire
    All the childhood fixin's 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 can't forget
    Ran home, watched cartoons and ain't said ****
    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 'cause I made it by the grace of the god
    I'm proud of my hard times, I spit hard rhymes
    Bible in one hand, the other hand nine
    Dreaming of naming streets and boulevards mine
    Grab yo piece of the pie, the other parts mine

    [Chorus: x2]

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