Chorus - Nelly) 2x
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Real niggas ride wit' us
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You haters gotta ride the bus
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Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
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Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
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Real niggas ride wit' us (and dime ladies)
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You haters gotta ride the bus (we drop crazy)
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Smoke 'til when my brain gon' bust
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Bank account so plush, the FEDs on us
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(Kyjuan)
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Kyjuan's a preppy hippy, cross the bridgy of Mississippi
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I slang thangs, make bread, easy like Jiffy
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Call me a cool nigga or a Mr. refriger'
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Kids ask me ("Mr. can you get crunk and jiggy?")
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I reply quickly, bottle of Andres or Crissy
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Smoke backyard or sticky, my man, watch me get busy
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I wake up with two dimes, both named Nikki
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I'm a playa dirty, no passion marks, no hickies
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Cats make me sick when I roll through y'all city
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Lookin like angry mad, face mad, teeth gritty
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You gon' make me go back into my days of U-City
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Cornrows, penny bros and new Dickies
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Ahh shit, when situation looks shitty
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I got that thang with me, plus I Puff like Diddy
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You niggas can't hang with me, or pop the pain with me
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So wrap somethin mo' and hop in the Range with me
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(Ali)
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Check, check
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No picture me rollin, Optimo, glocka four-four
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Four-do' Range Rov', mink with matchin Kangol
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Whole hood like "oh", freakin 'em out they mind
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D's with diamonds on 'em, jackers, I know they want 'em
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Not, you see the watch, Rollie or G-shot
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You hear me four, five blocks before you see me, that's the knock
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I need not speak on that, I speak on Zack
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And how he better fix my shit or give my eight G's back
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Salute the rugged, flip screen, you gotta love it
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Navigational system behind the ten, duckin the public
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Take my chain off to thaw out, battle four out
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We fill, the fattest wad a hun'neds you ever saw out
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Son break the jar out, twist the muskie
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Only real niggas ride and smoke, patna trust me
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If I'm lyin, bad mouth, slap then crush me
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Cuss me, suplex lamb, grab the nine and bust me
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'Cause only....
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(Chorus)
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(Nelly)
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I'm like the battery, I come through every door on a cell (Duracell)
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Mr. energizer, forever ready to make a mil'
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Fuck that Cris', let it spill, I hit the gas, and make it peel
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I'm smokin twenty inches of Parelli, wha, up off the wheel
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I hit the jewelry store at noon, slight case of the chills
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I got the face too damn chunky 'cause it's still read "twelve"
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Well hell, not a shit starter but I be startin some shit
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Half the time I'm in the club, half the niggas gettin pissed
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Me, got they miss, I done, caught they wrist
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And they be thinkin you cockblockin 'cause you gave her a kiss
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I walks over to your bitch and asks her "who's is this?"
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(yours Nelly)
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Tell 'em one more time just in case he forgets
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I be the sleepy eyed, kinky guy, the chinky eye
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Comin be like I, ay, EI, ready the guy
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Nigga hella high, country grammar, yellin "EI!"
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Fuckin your cutie pie, forty-nine, not gettin none
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(Murphy Lee)
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You shoulda' seen this ladie's face when I walked in the bank
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I'm the school boy, I'm Hollywood, smellin like dank
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Lookin like I don't know left from right
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Holdin a check, got the whole front desk like "Murphy's set for life!"
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I agree wit' em, I exchange sacks with seeds in 'em
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Drivin eighty in the rainiest Rov', TV's in 'em
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I'm St. Lou, plus true to the arch equals I'm real
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I'm Hollywood, plus true to the heart equals a mil'
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I'm killin y'all, matter fact I'm killin myself
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In a category with T-Boz, I'm feelin myself
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It gets no better, Slo says it gotta get better
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Gotta get wood, gotta get dubs, we gotta get leather
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I'm like, what, real playas roll on dubs (Lunatics like)
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And haters can't kick it wit' us (and our blunts tight)
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We smokin 'til our brain gon' bust
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Gettin head in the back of the truck, City what up
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I'm like only....
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(Chorus) 2x
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-----------------
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Real Niggaz
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| Nelly |
