Oh no, that be The Realist!
Lyrics
Chorus:
Who's that motha f*** a knockin at your do'? (Oh No) Oh no, that be The Realist
Rushin' in your crib 'bout to get that do'? (Oh No) Oh no, that be The Realist
Now who's that rollin' on them 24's? (Oh No) Oh no, that be The Realist
Creepin' wit your b*** when we on the low (Oh No) oh no, that be The Realist
Verse 1:
Who gave you the best shows? Better yet dogg
Who gave you the best flows? Where'd your vest go?
I-B-E that's who I be
No need to see I.D. for V.I.P.
Cause my name's blown all across the globe (Oh No)
You're still tryna cross the road, chicken
I'm finger lickin', I'm that damn good
Wipe my ass with your sweatshirt, sh** in your hood, ha
I ain't got time for jokes, but I got time to smoke
And nine knives to outline your throat
Prob'ly rip up every single line you wrote
But if you wanna f*** wit it, n*** z come get it
People say they gonna merk Ibie, so
We ride around wit guns the size of Danny Devito
What you know about sawed off shotguns
With n*** z waitin' for the right moment to pop one huh?
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Yeah I got a dirty house, I got a dirty mouth
I'm not east coast, west coast, or the dirty south
n*** z know that I'm straight from the Midwest
F*** in' wit chicks wit thick hips and big breast
Get 'em in the room, get up in they womb
Haters wanna front so I flip, another wound
Hit 'em wit a broom, send 'em to the tomb
F*** in' wit this, you're gonna meet your doom
Can't stop the hustle, watch me hustle
Knockin' n*** z out not flexin' a muscle
Made it through all the stress and struggles
Paid my dues, changed the game, made the rules
Break the rules? n*** done lost his dumb mind
I bang heads like the lead drummer in Drum Line
Thanks to me there will be no more sunshine
Had to let these motha f*** as know just one time
