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hustle gang - real niggas lyrics

[intro]
they make believe these n-ggas too fake
make believe these n-ggas too fake

[hook]
louie v’s with no shoelace
drinkin’ lean like it kool-aid
these vvs ain’t no fugaz’
they make believe these n-ggas too fake
i f-ck with real n-ggas and bad b-tches
got the real n-ggas and bad b-tches
real n-ggas and bad b-tches
now where my real n-ggas and bad b-tches?

[verse 1]
gold rollie, vs1’s
chain bussin like vietnam
see it with you, lil bling bling on
like it came straight from cheech and chong
no shoe strings, i mean louie vuitton
no 2 chainz, i got 3 on
you n-ggas goin nuts over pecans
i’m a big dog, you’re a pee-on
bad b-tches and real n-ggas
polo, no hilfiger
‘cause players only live once
rest in peace chad butler i’m still pimpin
it ain’t dead, i’m still livin
dead prez is my true religion
i’m too hot, i need a cool -ssistant
call the cops because my roof is missin’

(verse)
sippin lean like it kool-aid
white bread like too paid
getting more head than toupee
diamond clear like blu-ray
lil n-gga you too fake
your b-tch say she want a real n-gga
you try to hide or you can try to save her
nevermind, i’ma still hit her

[hook]

[verse 2]
outfit clean ocd
f-ck around, put a pimp on a cd
who the f-ck got a bank round this b-tch
we done pour it up like ri ri
ap and wet with the vv
it’s the same thing on my necklace
i don’t be facin’ my dealers just like she on front of the magazine
thirty rounds in the magazine
fresh out that jet, lil b-tch we traveling
smoking on gasoline
all i needs is sorta oh fairly
yea, i’m iced out and i’m geeked
said f-ck d in the street
i’m yelling lines in these streets short

[verse 3]
real n-ggas and bad b-tches
cash getting yo -ss kissed
count twenty thousand like ten minutes
got a foreign whip with your b-tch in it
hustle gang, my team winnin’
sleep then and when i’m still sippin’
wanna pop the clip and you get rippin’
i’mma f-ck around this imma lieutenant!
and it’s all about the paper
you block just sweat like the lakers
uh, west side, they know me
two times, for the doe b
louie’s got blood on my hoffy
broke n-gga, g.d.o.d
i shout like one of birdman to you
smoking d-o-p-e

[hook]

[verse 4]
lv’s, true religion
all these racks can’t fit up in it
vvs got blood in it
my money longer than life sentence
her p-ssy good like soul food
your main b-tch is my old news
she got the red bottoms, jimmy choo’s
i ain’t get that b-tch a pair of house shoes
red box, c-cktail
all my n-ggas jumpin off the porch
all my n-ggas be going for broke
i’m mad talkin like scott storch
styrofoam, double cup
blowin up bout two 4’s
the baddest b-tch you ever seen
like stolen rims, she’s on all fours

[bridge]
f-ck them f-ck n-ggas, i know they hate us
‘cause all my n-ggas getting paper
fifty bottles, we got em raised up
i done f-cked the ho, so why you got em caged up?

[hook]

- hustle gang lyrics

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