[Verse 1: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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1977 was a no cocaine in my hood-ject
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The brothers was stuck on Chuck without a mind set
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I got tired of watchin "Good Times"
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feelin like J.J., I'm standin in the food bank line
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My momma was ridin on the bus tryna get to work
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Early in the morn', it's cold and her knees hurt
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She got a .38 sittin in her purse
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Cause my moms was the King County Jail nurse
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So how in the hell could you tell Mix
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That I never lived this, when you was just a snotty nose age six
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Young buck, just graduate
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And your lyin when you say your street educated
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Cause I'ma veteran boy and you's a new booty
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So stop frontin to your friends like you knew me
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Cause you don't and you never did, kid
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So FUCK your respect and the shit you claim ya did
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To all ya real, when ya claimin ya gang bang
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Doin everythin to gain fame and get yourself a name
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But I done seen my homies gettin smoked over dice games
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When you was still at home doin nice things
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Back in the days of turtle wax on Cadillacs
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Life to a brother was hoes and macks
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I had to come up some way
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Pimp daddies and ex-Black Panthers used to school me
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Why moms was puttin in eight to twelve
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I was in the hood gettin schooled on makin mail
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I can't let my moms die a poor black sister
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Gotta make her richer
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So tell me what's real, partner
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[Break: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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(Da-da-da-down for mine)
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(You gon' buy me a motherfuckin car?)
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So what's real fool?
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(Da-da-da-down for mine)
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(You gon' buy me a motherfuckin car?)
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[Verse 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Back when MLK Way was Empire Way
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I was stuck on broke, but I used to hear pimps say
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Better get what you can get before you get got
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Come up and snatch yours and buy yourself a nice spot
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And that's stuck in my head 'til this day G
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So I apply pimp game to life you see
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But I ain't beatin on my sister in the streets
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I'ma focus on my real enemy, yeah
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So if I'm pimpin, then who's my hoeys
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In D.C. livin in a big white house bro
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Changes his name every four years
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Mr. Carter caught me slippin, but Reagan wasn't gettin his
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I never wanted a hand out young Jake
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I never got jealous over how much a brother makes
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So I was on my own, no love in the school zone
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No blacks in the books, so I'm gone
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And now the only color that I love is green see
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Cause my history books never taught me about me
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I may not like where I've been, but I'm lovin where I am
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Prime rib, fuck Spam
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So tell me what's real partner
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[Break: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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(I fought back, then heat check)
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(You gon' buy me a motherfuckin car?)
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So what's real fool
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(I fought back, then heat check)
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(You gon' buy me a motherfuckin car?)
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[Interlude: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Yeah, I'd much rather be behind the mic, then the gat
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But the simple fact that my pockets is fat
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Means I can't relax, you know what I'm sayin?
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Haha
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[Verse 3: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Criticized by the main stream
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For not bein the house jig and keepin things squeaky clean
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But I can't, so I ain't
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But I won't play the hard role just because you think
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that is real, to say you kill, when you never held steel
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You try to sing when you rollin in cake-ville
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Back in the days you was breakdancin see
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I remember when you had tight pants G
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So Mr. Rap Critic when you trys to check me
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about my cars and my girls, claimin you never could respect me
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You really think I give a damn partner?
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The shit I've been through man
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I used to roll with the hoes
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Hit the Caddy, slam the doors
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Livin alone, cellular phone
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Havin no furniture in my home
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Rollin to Canada, makin my mail
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Givin a trick a piece of tail
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Livin it large, keepin it hard
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Life was kinda odd
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And rat a tat tat with my gat, sat in my lap G
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The Hilton Hotel was my spot, I'm runnin my things see
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I went from hustlin cheese, to double platinum LPs
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But you still can't feel me
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Boy the head don't get fat if you know where your at
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Instead of ridin my back, check your own dat and that's facts
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Now what's real partner
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[Outro: Sir Mix-A-Lot - talking]
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Haha, so what's real?
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Yeah and all you clown runnin around town
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Tellin people me and yous was down
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| When I was doin partie |
