Real Talk - Lil Wayne

I am what you call a survivor, like trouble with drama

But I recover with power, and love it with honor

Discovered as a son of a problem

Remember smugglin powder throught the doors of my high school

To force up they nostril, 'til it got full

But now they pop for a pill

Lil one here’s what’s up, Drugs could kill

But drugs could heal

If ya, ahh, ill for that good feel

And it feels good when them fields pull

We wheels quarters through the real raw parts of the streets

My hearts in the streets, So watch what ya step

When ya run from the gunfire of Glocks and Tech’s

Specials and Pumps, Vests is for chumps

Eat ya chests for lunch, munch

Young country dude, hunt ya down with tools

Repsect my presence, I step with weapons

You fall in seconds

Its all in the code of the streets, we go by it and stop from it Real nigga talk, No frontin

Heh

Do you understand the words that are comin out of my mouth?

If ya dont its because I’m speakin real nigga

Real nigga, This here is real nigga talk

Real nigga talk dogg, I hope you feel me Let me talk to you dogg, You gotta feel me I hope you feel me, You gotta feel me Listen

Chrome’s hidden inside of my tires

You should see the size of my tires

Ridin’on Mark McGwires, I spark the fire

Got me higher than a late flight

From L.A. to New York twice in the same night

Got some shit in my bag to make ya vein white, Cocaine pipe

Watch homie’s brains get rain whipped

Thats the type of sight to make Wayne right

They sayin life is short but money is long, And money is life

So for now I’m runnin the lights, in the 600 with pipes

Hop out, Collar Polo, and under the stripes is something that bites

We will be thuggin for life

And can’t nothin pursuede or change us We gangstas, we live it, I’m in the post without a Pippen

But fuck it, I’m just shootin when I can’t move

Who’da knew I can’t lose

And truthfully through the loot that’s Young Money Entertainment

You get it arranged then holla at me

(Chorus w/ minor variations)

I burn in the winter, stand up in the fall

Stand up in the stands, and stand up for my dogs

Them asses I will spall, the plan is too ball

But the stuff I got in my pants cuff

is enough to make’em put my hands on the wall

Work, push on the strip, I’m pushin the whip

Fat back pockets, my cushion if I’m lookin to slip

I’m hookin ya lip, If ya play hookie with my chips

Put that ass kitchen, bitch, when ya cookin that shit

Dodge hoes, jukin and shit

Cause I can see beautiful women, but I’m not lookin for shit

I’m from the hood where you tooken for shit

So you gotta take the shit, and make ya shit

I had to bring home the bacon bits

Cause Pop’s was fakin, and he left a nigga bakin shit

Now my heart ache and itch, from all the flagrant shit

I gotta take in, and thug out

Real nigga talk, bitch

(Chorus w/ minor variations)