Real Talk (123) Songtext / Lyric

Fabolous- Real talk (1,2,3)

On them streets… you betta keep your hands on them heats
And live what you saying on them beats
Real Talk

Hook:
1,2,3 you don’t really wanna fuck with me
get in the way you could get yourself shot
fuck the cops, you on my block
fuckin with a gangsta nigga
(2*)

they ain’t waling the walk, they just talking the talk
some people look at me as real talk of New york
I ain’t like these niggas who be feindin to front
Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt
Look I don’t be meaning the stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front
In something that you seen and you want
But otherwise I’m cool with it
They say only the ones who never had gon get and act a fool wit it
Everybody’s gangsta thru the promotion
Even if they raised in a house wit a view of the ocean
The bangers is growin upset
Cuz ya ass is on TV throwin upsets
And you know you ain’t like that
But you’ll say that you is
Go and rent a bunch a shit and then say that it’s his
You ain’t a pimp or you wouldn’t go to dinner wit groupies
Ain’t a baler cuz you wouldn’t put spinners on hoopties

Hook

How can niggas say they be on the other side of the seas
Where the steeling wheels are on the other side of the v’s
And the home look like the spot on the other side of the c’s
When they ain’t never been on the other side of the p’s
I ca see thru em, ya tents are too light
Every sentence you write is far from the truth
You wanna be that nigga you are in the booth
But you ain’t got the heart, the scars, or the proof
And now you flash ya shirt tag in our grill
But I’m hearin you was a dirtbag before our deal
You walk around talking how every dime sucked you
When they don’t even speak to you, nevermind fucked you
Ya hood sayin don’t come back
Step foot in here and they gon put you where you won’t come back
Dog, how the fuck you gon have keys in ya house
When ya moms won’t even give you keys to the house, Loser

Hook

Niggas, you in the mirror, checkin what your make ups looking like
Trynna fool the world wit a Jacob look-a-like
Jiving like you hold stacks
But ya car is ten years old homie, ya drivin in a throwback
They gon strip you, have you runnin naked next
Without security you like unprotected sex
You ain’t never finger a trigge
All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga
If real recognize real you’d be a john doe
You livin in a closet and call it condo
I don’t nember you as a slinger that was on the bench
Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments
Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans
Nah, I think it’s these hip hop con man’s
Studio gangsta’s is played out now
This ain’t the eighties, battle raps’ll get you layed out now, Fucka

Hook

1,2,3 and any time that you on them streets
you better keep your hands on them heats
and live what you sayin on them beats
Real Talk (2*)

It’s really really really really Real Talk (4*)