Real Life - Eye for an Eye lyrics

[Intro: Money Grip] Uh... the pressure... Uh, this means war, yo... [Money Grip] I wear a size nine in my dress shoe Coincidently a nine's in my vest too, come and test two Big guns, hammer co*k, go Mustang, yellow is banana top fold Cristine pics, six mean whips Three chicks, mother knowing, six mean tips Rock a n***a crew, silly, boom bye bye Black suits filling up the room, guy die Blunt and dry tied, getting sky high Lakers set a black code, doom side five Blacks back 'em up, like a stocked up single Cops packed 'em up, in his pocked up mingle Old school, new school, need to feel though Show, how I throw tool, n***as peel though Aim to cook a nine up, and get an eight spazzled Lame n***as sign up, and get your safe crashed though Who is that man, Mr. Gat Man Heat holding, do a n***a through his cat scan [Real Life] Flame thrower, who to blame, and your name don't show up Throw up, I'm blowing the dutch, my guns bust And you f**ing with the wrong n***a, I blow a n***a Strong arm n***a, Vietnam n***a for sure Ain't no chore for the thing that I got, twin Glocks Forty five calo' slugs in hot rocks f** the cops, and anybody try'nna stop my team I rhyme hard for the love of the cream My sixteens, ain't nothing to doubt, gun bu*t, up in your mouth Real Life, up in your house f** an ounce, I need ten bricks, alotta chips n***as think that they can pull my suits and do the steeze You'se a b**h, son, I'm try'nna get rich, now break your self Before I take ya health, it's gonna take a lot shoves to stop me And I ain't rocking or dealing with none of ya'll So respect these bars, or I'mma catch you at the park [Chorus 2X: King Just] We gon' live, die, get by, high Before I take this in, I'd rather a chair and fry Why, M.C.'s, always wanna try Homicide Hill, n***a, eye for an eye [King Just] Aiyo, I touch down, clutch crown, I brought back the New sound I see the circuses in town, you clowns Automatic live rounds, spit for my crown Living adverbs and nouns, my metaphors astound Leap over crowds, with one single bound If you need more, this the record store where it's found Yo, the low light, lounge, n***a, ask around Used to talk about me, now you wanna give my a** a pound Who select you clown, let loose the hound Fourth down to go, hit the hole for the touchdown Shake down to slow down, your projects to a ghost town Three mics, three strikes, new pitcher on the mound Rumble every round, still get beat down Your face lift is now pararrel to the ground Catch me on the rebound, if you can Mr. J-U-S, f**ing your girl on candid cam' [Rush] Yo, I blow styles like Nikki Bonds blowing trial Guilty of a filthy freestyle and foul language Perfect strangers, mark this rap scene stainless Without a blemish, spend this from start to finish The mad chemist, create a rhyme like Frankenstein Then energy ever line without the lying We fertilize letters, bring words to life Preserve the life, to burn all you parasites back biting You hate hiking on my style, n***as wanna dick ride? Play the gate up, stay wearing knee high Might terrorize tracks, with terrorist traps Ask someone real, if I was kept sealed And if revealed, sk**s explode like Oklahoma Put the spicy n***as in comas, sniff the aroma The sweet smell of success, farewell to your flesh My style's so sick it was put on bed rest God bless, if you try to test my commitee My hood is all good, but then again it's all even I see you live a little stable, violate and sh**'ll turn fatal Meet my trigger finger friend napal Clown, you walking on shaky grounds The sh**'s violent, and n***as bust lyrical rounds