Still Real - Fat Joe, Millie Jackson

Yo yo

I’m sick and tired of stressin, every days a different lesson

I’m free-fallin tryna leave this deep depression

My son Joey still slow, my moms got cancer in her throat

My big brother sniffin dope

Lemme know how many motherfucker wanna be just like me

Screamed at and treated like shit by your wifey

This hot bitch be sweatin the coke cash

My baby mother think I grow dough out my ass

It’s like, how much fight I got left in me?

Niggas won’t be happy till they bring the fuckin death of me

But you never see Joe look weak or flow off beat

And Charlie sees the board in four more weeks

You gotta walk where I walked

Bang where I bang

Slang where I hang

To get where I’m going to

Stay where I stay

Blaze who I blazed

Pay dues how I payed

To get where I’m going to

Uh, yo, the South Bronx, nine years later

Ain’t nuttin changed, niggas still playa haters

T.S.

the best that’s done it, forever live and never front it

Reminisce of when I used to hold heat and tell niggas «run it»

Now we flooded with jewels, hundreds of dudes

Crowd the Coliseum to hear they favorite tunes

Then at the time of our prime we caught a sick one

The angels came down, took my twin Big Pun

Shit were unbalanced throughout the whole world

All I could do was try to provide for his seeds and his old girl

Hope your listenin, tell Ton' that we still missin him

I’m like a prisoner in jail with no visitors

Yeah, uh, aiyyo the third verse is dedicated to you

Even though you switched teams, I’m praying for you

We used to stay up all night countin dollar for dollar

You was my son’s godfather, where the fuck is your honor?

Can’t even rap the shit we did together

You’d probably have me shackled locked down doin bids forever

You broke the first code

I’d like to twist ya wifey till it roasts gold

Snitch nigga, turned state to sold ya soul

How could a nigga that was clappin in the streets

Start yappin to the deez, like what I rightly should believe?

Like ever verse is a charge, for every hurt there’s a scar

I never once tried to hurt cha’ll

I’m just tryna do me, sell a few CD’s

Buy land in Miami and cop a new B come on!

Motherfuckers think it’s sweet

Think a nigga got money and a nigga don’t feel pain

You ain’t never feel my pain

You don’t know what the fuck I’m goin through

Niggas lookin at me like, «He got it made»

Like I ain’t lose Pun, my grandfather a week later

My aunt a month later

Like my fuckin sister ain’t in a coma right now!

You motherfuckers don’t know pain!

Let’s get one thing clear;

money’ll never buy you happiness

My true niggas walk with me now!