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real people - masta killa lyrics

*talking*

[verse 1: masta k!lla]
oh you want more gun play
you wanna see me muder something broad day
here, lay down when you hear the sound, gun to the back of his head now
down front both knee, one two or three
squeeze trigger, crowd scream witnessing murdering, how dare you
never disrespect my family, i’ll rep mine til the last breath that’s physically
mine of a last, my sons they still blast they blast, they [?] than me
livin’ out the legacy of me, that’s how it gotta be
still k!lla heads in the first realm, man down, [?]
bushwick, bed*stuy, brownsville, eny
crown heights, flatbush, red hook, people shook
suspect my brooklyn always good looking
from the ground we get like when jews get [?]

[chorus: masta k!lla]
from brooklyn to la and back to queens
real people do real things, it’s the thing
and if you never [?] family of principle
you won’t get handled and dealt with
simple

[verse 2: prodigy]
they want that murder sixteen, i got that
me, rap k!lla pristine [?] homicide bangers for all of them gangsta
real sh*t , bodied this, and target the next one
i got my crosshair on every kick snare
every hi*hat, baseline should be scared
this is war literature, make me literally
destroy n*ggas on and off beat, enough game
now let me get seriously, on my sh*t on my gorilla grizzly
with these crowbars, flow hard like heavy blood loss
spit [?] yo prodigy, nasty god
mk, mvp will pass you off to the repo
for making them bullsh*t songs (f*ck outta here)
old p*ssy ass n*gga, you soft
and shorty want it hard and she want it all night long
[verse 3: kxng crooked]
i got all in my game in the backseat of a chevy
cause in long beach you just gotta pack heat and be ready
in the backstreet with the desi, heavy as shaq’s feet
n*ggas run like athletes at a track meet
all ya hats leaking spaghetti
obtain in my [?] activist rapper, n0bel is ready, i’m doc strange
pull up at the million man march in a box range
cause i won’t change but i got change, my block [?]
i’m still sipping dark bacardi, i’m still darker than marcus garvey
i still start to party like yardy
bust shots for cops, wanna give me 25 with a kickstand
but i’d rather park the harley
walk in, levi’s creased up
pair of mean chucks, blinged up like king tut
knowledge of self, i college my self
without a father to help, west coast sh*t
and poppers and wealth
k!lla

[chorus: masta k!lla]
from brooklyn to la and back to queens
real people do real things, it’s the thing
and if you never [?] family of principle
you won’t get handled and dealt with

- masta killa lyrics

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