If It Ain't Real - Soulja Slim

Gone off that mo’fucking midnight

Ya understand what I’m saying, midnight

You feel me, (dro that is)

If it ain’t real, it ain’t me

If I ain’t toting that steel, I might get killed on my streets

If you from the N.O., you know what I’m talking bout

Send me to jail, I post bail I’ma make it out

Nigga what you looking at, I know you ain’t booting up

All of us got knives, most of us tooled up

Blues what huh, nigga blues who

I’m gone off some dro, in the red white and blue

Ooh and it’s my duty, to serve you quickly

When I come, my drum gone be holding fifty

I’ma leave some’ing numb, from fucking with me

I been overdue, for these cowards to get me

I’m the nigga nigga, uh they love to hate

But they scared to run down me, I keep some’ing in my waist

You’s a bitch ass nigga, stay out my face

I can’t lace that up for you, no other kinda way

When you fucking with me, you fucking with the real

Deal, fake niggas get fucked in the field

I stay up in the field, I never got fucked so I’m real

You’s a bitch boy, you hide behind the shield

I’m in my motherfucking territory, foul now

But I bet a bitch gone bow down

Stay out of my way, cause I’m holding my K

And bitch, I’m bout to wild out

I hold it down, for that down south

I’m standing blasting my canon, my attitude is empty every Bullet I got me any

adversary, hailmary ya’ll scary

Bone buried, my fucking eyes blurry

I mean heavily twisted, I been on lean

I’ma perculate and I’ma lean, nigga feeling the breeze

I do thangs like a gangsta, hell is hot in the mangers

Smelling my Glock top as I pop shots, feel these hot potat’as

This for now not later, I got’s to escalate you man

I’ll take the shit out of your crib, like I’m your decorator

Punch ya', put your kid in the refrigerator

I bought a Glock for all you nigga hater, popped a lot of shots at a

demonstrator

I’m bout to penitrate ya, I been a gangsta

But my clip right in my hand, fucking my trigger finger

It’s getting crucial now, three murders every day

Shit will never stop, in the N-O-L-A

New Orleans Louisiana, can I ride with my heat

I’ma ride with my heat, four time felony

Everybody telling me, stay out the penetentiary

But I’d rather go back, than get my head on a flat

Them Magnolia niggas, them Melpomene niggas

Them Calliope niggas, ain’t nothing to play with

If they got beef, then they letting the K spit

Trying to make a nigga disappear, like matrix

I wear my Reebok’s, with the loose shoe laces

And stomp in em like a big dog, in different places

Never went out of state, and caught no cases

Don’t think that I won’t, homeboy I’ll waste ya

Somebody call the ambulance

That boy blood flood the street like a avalanche, dead on arrival