[Verse 1]
I'm on the hill where the sh** is real
You would suppose it's all about money, hoes, and clothes
Territories in the smash like a crash from blasting
It's all about s** and a sa** a**a**ins
It always gotta be a flick up
The cops making a pickup
Or n***as getting money from a stickup
Lost boys running around like a mad man
k**ing, or either getting k**ed from a bad plan
One shorty had got his life tooken
From a sound like this, you know it gotta be in Brooklyn
They take it off as if they gotta start street
That's why the brothers on the Hill will bust a n***a in a heartbeat
Yo, everybody want to live long
So you bust another brother for looking in your f**ing face for 'im
I gotta live it, plus roll with a temper
Cause n***as go out the same way they get ya
Every other day, somebody gets born
And the n***as on the corner playing the wall like handball
The only one remain in a bad game
Life's a pain; n***as retire from the knuckle game
Some n***as are k**ers when you drink Baccardi
But when they sober, they wouldn't bust a balloon at a birthday party
It's easy to tell what type of sh** sells
From the streets of the hometown
I'm pushing a Beemer, smoking a fat ounce
I'm from the Hill where the motherf**ers are buck wild
n***as catching bodies most of the time beating trial
Like the Island, co*ks**ers'll get touched
n***as want beef, but hold a grudge like a clutch
n***as on the deep dirty pack guns
Cause up on the real Hill, it's blow holes, money, no fair ones
I'm on my own cause my name's in a box
Only in jail, they playing for keeps up on the Hill
That's real
[Verse 2]
n***as get slayed on the regular
f** the crack game, now funeral homes getting paid
No time for n***as doing something for nothing
And it's hectic, so now I pack a burner like I'm going hunting
I feel on the Hill in the 'ville, n***as build as they deal
But to make the bill, they gotta k**
n***as'll murder another n***a and cold jet
Then come back in five minutes to the scene of the set
I seen cops playing n***as like they was s**ers
n***as started flipping, bringing the ruckus to the motherf**ers
Punk-a** cops are f*ggots
Cops try to knock n***as, n***as be dropping cops like a bad habit
A little shorty was a beggar
But he saved and went abroad and did a job from a bootlegger
He got props from the boys and he pulled the girls
With two shots, little shorty thought he ruled the world
The sh** he had, he was too rough with it
Little shorty had a heart like his name was David Berkowitz
The type of little motherf**er with a hard figure
New school shorty jibed with the wrong n***as
He hara**ed the wrong n***as for cash
And I ain't trying to get bra**
But I'mma put sh** in a smash
Let his little a** know I'm playing for keeps
And that's to k**
Up on the Hill that's real
[Verse 3]
n***as are S.T.D. -- scared to d**h
Shorty was a vet, and a threat
Handed him beef like a chef
Straight up and down, the shorty was a strong n***a
Yep, he was, but shorty f**ed with the wrong n***a
He stuck a n***a for his j**els
And the ghetto with two shots
n***as are packing 16 shots or better
He said, "Your money, run your j**els and cash"
He said no one gon' get hurt, it was a little n***a blast
He bust his only two shots and didn't hit
Money bust back and let off a whole clip
Shorty ran and stopped and dropped
Here comes the cops -- they found his a** in a lot
Shorty died because another n***a struck
n***as ain't joking -- you play p**y, you get f**ed
sh** is ill so I chill and do things on how I feel
They playing for keeps up on the Hill that's real