I like my drinks cold, I keep my weed rolled Like her ass fat and out of control I keep some gold on my neck and my wrist Rockin' designer, they not on my shit Got me a rider, shoot right off the hip Baow, like a westerner flick Remember them days when I would cop a Vick Now I ride with an ounce in the whip, yeah
I got them gats, I got your bitch in the trap your bitch on my lap, yeah You is a sap, nigga, don't play with me, nigga I make you take a nap I got that 'Nolia, you know I make it clap ('Nolia) I'm makin' money, they pay me for the rap Put your feature on your head, nigga (Ooh) And I got young niggas ready collect the bread (Get it) Shootin' that bitch at your head Cut on my Tv, make sure that you dead (Yeah) Come get the money, you knowin' my business Discuss it with real niggas, don't talk to bitches I know these niggas be snitchin' Thirty round, it's an extended Poppin' that bitch and it empty Squeezin' that bitch 'til it click, woah
This is real life, not the internet (Internet) This is real life, not the internet (Ooh) I really live what I rap (Rap) I'm really livin' like that (That) I really pulled out them racks (Damn) Only spent that from the trap (Ooh) Always see me on the move (Move) They wanna be on my crew (Crew) This is real life, not the internet (Nah) This is real life, not the internet (Bitch) They do not live what they rap (Nah) She don't be lookin' like that (Ooh) Niggas don't really got straps (Ooh) Lyin' in all of they tracks (Ooh) Fake money, bitches, and gats (Goddamn) We had enough of the wack, yeah (Yeah)
Okay, and your bitch say she wan' leave with my clique (Yeah) No, baby girl, this right here is the gang Say you wan' run with her, we run a train No, no missed stain, yeah (No, no missed stain) I just do my thing, yeah (I just do my thing) Bitches actin' lame, yeah (Bitches actin' lame) I don't say a thing (I don't say a thing)
Try not to judge what I see on the internet I cannot fall for the trap Can't trust they looks or they numbers or even they story they team behind that I got no stylist or writers, they bitin' the bounce 'cause they know I got next So I make my next one the best one I possibly can make it, it isn't a flex
This is real life, not the internet (Internet) This is real life, not the internet (Ooh) I really live what I rap (Rap) I'm really livin' like that (That) I really pulled out them racks (Damn) Only spent that from the trap (Ooh) Always see me on the move (Move) They wanna be on my crew (Crew) This is real life, not the internet (Nah) This is real life, not the internet (Bitch) They do not live what they rap (Nah) She don't be lookin' like that (Ooh) Niggas don't really got straps (Ooh) Lyin' in all of they tracks (Ooh) Fake money, bitches, and gats (Goddamn) We had enough of the wack, yeah (Yeah, yeah, bitch)
Compositores: Beau Young (Beau Young Prince), Frans Chaim Mernick ECAD: Obra #33260063