Return Of The Real Lyrics by Ice-t

Return Of The Real Lyrics

    Yo, what's up with all these niggas
    On these muthafuckin records talkin all this bullshit
    (man, i don't know about these niggas out here
    Them other sucker-ass niggas, them old fake-ass bitches)
    I ain't tryin to hear that shit, man
    These bitches ain't players, man
    (yeah man
    You know these niggas out here been fakin for years, man
    I'm glad my nigga ice comin with that hp shit
    That high-powered shit..)

    [ verse 1 ]
    Peace to my street niggas movin that weight
    Much love to my comrads who's out in upstate
    Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game
    Street fame, i got much that's in touch with my name
    Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame nigga trippin
    Wake up my posse, interrup the rémy-sippin
    Four in your back and keep bailin
    Listen to the hk wailin and your vital signs failin
    Everyone that ever met me knows
    I work bitches like niggas, pimp niggas like hoes
    Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked
    You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it
    For ten years i been connected to the top of this
    Hold your breath, kid, i'm never droppin this
    Too busy rollin off them fat chrome rims
    And niggas who trip get sung hymns
    We crash clubs and security shits
    Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips
    Crazy muthafuckas lickin shots in doors
    Leavin suckers' bodies bleedin over nightclub floors
    You don't want none, son, stay gone
    Break north when i come and you might live long
    Yeah, my face kickin treble, you're just a pebble
    You're gettin rocked, yo e, cock the glock
    And let these niggas know, yo, that the west don't play none
    Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun
    You broke ill and you cold fucked up
    Now you're bleedin through your fingers while you're holdin your gut
    For real

    [ chorus ]
    So get your money how you want to, friend
    But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
    (return of the real) the game of life is only fake and true
    But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

    [ hot dollar ]
    (cause the pimps don't get no bigger
    Than these here niggas)

    It's the return of the real

    (these muthafuckas best to get to recognize
    Before i gets to chastizin
    Cause see, the shit all ties in
    It's just some of that pimp, player, hustler shit
    Ice-t been around for a while now
    Nigga was gangbangin when gangbangin wasn't even cool, nigga
    What you know about that shit?)

    [ verse 2 ]
    I go deep into the street life's anatomy
    A nigga take me out - yo, what a upset that'd be
    And if i fall i fall on cushions, ???
    Hittin niggas up with the tec and watch the blood gushin
    I see your videos, a 100 niggas in it you don't know
    Framed in the lens, bought friends
    Who really got your back, nigga, check it out
    You really possess like zero street clout (think about)
    The only place you're safe is in the studio
    Yellin in the mic, you'se a bitch, that's right
    I take a nigga like you and make him prostitute cute
    So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot
    You front hardcore, but i don't feel ya
    Kids from my hood'll take your punk ass and peel ya
    Let me check my rolex quick because time's money
    Squintin from the pavet face because it's kinda sunny
    Skinnin the top back, flossin the rag and the thing
    Feelin the sun, backin off of my pinky ring
    Hittin the 'shaw with my niggas and clown
    Lift the ass, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground
    But most of the time you can't see a nigga
    Deep in the archives parlayin new ways to get my bank bigger

    [ chorus ]

    [ hot dollar ]
    (as i slides up out the do'
    Gots to give a special props shout out to that nigga the o.g.
    Got muthfuckin red in the house
    [name] and the muthafuckin ringleader of funk, dj ace
    Hot dollar's up in this muthafucka
    If you didn't know
    Count your muthafuckin blessings and handcuff your hoe
    You know what i'm sayin?
    It's all good for my hood
    Comp-town in the muthafuckin house
    Nigga don't know well i tell ya like this
    West hollywood hills
    That's the deal, fool
    You know i know the rules..)

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