C-Bo - Real Niggas Lyrics

Writer(s) : WALLACE, CHRISTOPHER/ANGELETTIE, DERIC MICHEAL
Artist: C-Bo Lyrics
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Twenty five years old still tryin' to make a livin' off a
one live then they're only slugs give a *****
**** holes in my chest took my last breath
I squeeze my Mag and I'm taggin' him to his death ridah
Surprise the whole block when we slide up
An expedition in business holdin' them 9's up
First to die be the first ***** that speak
Murdered to death in the Killafornia streets
I live my life behind a pistol, smash for the cash
*****, life is too short that's why we murdered your ***
Give a shout to y'all homies, gave your ***** to a thug *****
And all the cops they gave their money to the drug dealers
Dump slugs on all y'all piggies, that club *****
And big dicks is why you white *****es love *****s
A black warrior, finger on the ****in' trigger
Before I die bet they realize I'm a real *****

It ain't no clowin this trick, real *****s'll load clips
Pushin' luxury cars, when we dip
It's all about stackin' them chips, makin' that long money flip
And haters that trip a click to catch clips, for real *****s
And haters that trip a click to catch clips, for real *****s

Bailin' times, **** it, Mob Figgas'll get the bustin'
Ain't no exit out the dip, stuck is how I'm livin'
Driven to be that male factor
It's like I have (?) a boot cha or do ya out the frame, and loot the cash
Rush ya, bust ya, with fo'-fifths and extra clips
entrepreneur, check my profile, that Mob ***** now
Pushin' weight to my Eastend loc, he called me craze is grey?
Like Tony but never phony, that ***** (?)

I'm bringin' it to em like this, Mob Figgas, real *****s down to kill *****s
Five *****s, live *****s, lick and do or die, *****
Nine's *****'s time's tickin' when I blow your mind, *****
Call me AP-9, *****, boogie's when we rhyme, *****
I hit the block and have it sold
See my freakers hittin' vicious on them po's, that's the way the game goes
On tre-low, I stay low, dippin crate loads
Never had my *****s leavin nappy, runnin big blocks and cavi

It's the hustler, you figure out I pack the biggest strap
Boy, I get savage, fold some cabbage, paper chasin' is effect
Real *****s lost the fake, and a war that's takin' place
You might get chopped up by the gauge, you ain't the kind that can't relate
Walk and trip into my car, stompin' a chop off in my drawers
It's the hustler verse em all, so I blast if it's called fo'
Your detective *** wears raw do', real *****s keepin' it inside do'
While real *****s is ridin', that's how we flex when we despise

The Mob Figgas, I grew up with these *****s
Trust my life for real *****s, (?) be the first to blast
so I don't have no fear, when I'm out here
But life still be makin' me sick
Had to feel the Gleec kick and see heat rip flesh from the unfortunate
Allah bless your soul
I know I was wrong but he crossed the real
so I prayed that you will have understandin' and feel
my story, when it's time to wrestle *****s to respect

Real *****s out to get, out to get it on
Screamin' "**** em all" wit my back against the wall
They can't hold me back, I be the first to dump
on the worthless filth punk as he jump, felts kick from the pump
When my nuts was young, we see they hung to the floor
And when they severs 2-11's like teflon dyin out the door
What they know? We Mob Figgas, born in them savage times
**** your average *** rhymes, *****

Chorus


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Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
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