Be true 2 it Songtext / Lyric

(*talking*)
Ghetto Status main, yeah
Koopa, know I'm talking bout
An underground soldier baby
Military main, hey [Chamillionaire]
230 thousand dollaz not a lot to Rasaq, get out your clock
And time how long it take em, to finish building my spot
I'm the hottest the South has got, if you think Chamillion is not
Swallow the key and throw it out, and just make sure your mouth is locked
Some look up to Pac, and some look up to The Rock
But short is something I'm not, so I don't look up a lot
You wearing a Jacob watch, and fronting like they were rocks
When the Mix Tap Messiah drops, that B-S is finna stop
I'm not gon knock a nigga, for trying to look like he doing it
Be true to it, if you say you doing it and ain't doing it
Then you will get exposed, you know that I'm gonna ruin it
It's foolishness, sip your Hypnotic I hope you cool with it
I'm a expose your cheap, thirty dollar bottle ass niggaz
No brain in your head, cause your head hollow ass niggaz
All you watching TV, I wanna date a model ass niggaz
I wanna go buy a more expensive bottle, than Jigga's ass niggaz
Yep, the tool is kept
But we can take off the gloves, and we can do to death
Don't get it mixed up, my chips up I'm glued to checks
Don't get it switched up with the chicks, cause I'm smooth as Heff
Yep and it ain't nothing better, than money and hoes
Ok I lied about one of those, and one of em's hoes
Two different types of green, yep then one of em grows
Ok both of em grow, but for me it's money from shows, yep It's the King, Koopa
Hey, hey, hey

[Lew Hawk]
I need a six foot dime, that's gon ride for me
The type of broad if it's heat, she gon lie for me
Stash cake for me, when it's HPD
On my trail trying to see, how the crew get down
22's on the Coupe, that's how the crew get down
Uptown, that's where them niggaz play with K's and tech's
And dump your body in them streets, if it's disrespect
Different sets on channel six, keep these hoochies wet
Different sets of hollow tips, keep these niggaz in check
I make checks from killa flows, that I spit on tour
Coming straight from the heart, from the pain I endure
Locked up in a cage, with no sun for days
Better play them street smart, and try to duck dark days
They say, that sixty grams'll get you two for six
The sixty grams in my clip, can get your wrist on lit
Bracelets with them karats, sparkling nice
Looking like you stuck your fist, in a block of ice
But take advice from a hustler, the cops is sick
I pop a snitch, it's niggaz on the block that snitch
I'm trying to get rich, by shaking all that white in the mix
I stay in the mix hitting licks, cause my grinding to fix
Better fix your frame without, when you speaking on us
It's the triple C Click, and they can't fuck with us

Uh, Lew Hawk, uh

[Rasaq]
It's the young Hooligan, who could fool with him
I kill beats on they two, like this is a pen
Don't make me click-clack, and reload again
Leave your ears are opening, the size of rolling rims
Mouth full of ammo, the black Rambo
Do they want me to spit for em, Cham (man, no)
And your man know, I can go off like a bomb in a land so
Watch where you stand, oh
Judging how the hand glow, if I let the hand slow
The sun will pack in gold, they know
Matter of fact, the flow is so damn hot
I gotta come out the throwback, Ast-ro
Chickens happen to know, how we rap at the show
That's why they the first to come, and the last to go
She the first to come, you the last to know
Can I get her ass to go, nigga