San Quinn - If It Ain't Real lyrics

[Verse 1: Messy Marv] Feds and the ATF, they try to clown ‘Cause we connected Fillmore with the 3C's down n***a, I gets around Mac Dre, you know these n***as'll love to playa hate But watch the Glock bounce, rock and skate Through they cranium and travel to they mid-brain More murder, more c**aine That's the theme, came thicker than Gold Medal flour Y'all got the game mixed up, it's the money then the power And these good-for-nothing b**hes come along with the riches And on your safe, that hoe is plottin' for the digits Y'all got it twisted, like Mac Mall, get some Get Right And dump on that hoe, 45 Calico infrared light The game ain't right, a Fillmore n***a stick to the script Never trust a b**h with your sack, a cuddie around your scat And sees this cat, from the F-I-double-L-M-O-iggidy To the 7-0-Siggidy, Seff tha Gaffla, San Quinn and young Miggidy You n***as ain't feelin' me, my n***a Coolio put me in the giggidy From the SF-siggidy, to the V, if it ain't real it ain't riggidy [Verse 2: Coolio Da'Unda'Dogg] Well it's the Unda'Dogg, with the sh** that'll make you wonder, dog How in the f** he spit like this, well make way, ‘cause here comes a hog See ain't no slackin' up in my stackin', steadily mackin' And I'm gettin' my propers on for makin' you up a proper song And nevertheless, I'm smokin' my zest and drinkin' up on that Tanqueray Or separators, that Kahlua, milk and E&J So what they say, they know who's keepin' it real, n***a From the L.A. to the Bay, from the Crestside to the Fill', n***a Messy Marv, Seff tha Gaffla and San Quinn done did it Hooked up with Mac Dre and Coolio, bustas can't get with it Come in on this mic, I spit it on this mic, I sh**ted on this mic And keepin' it tight, if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 3: Seff tha Gaffla] Man, I came way across the Bay to do this sh** with Mac Dre Fillmore, Califor-ni-a, the place tha Gaffla stay Many dues I had to pay, several cats I had to slay Turned out a few shows, got sprayed with the pepper spray Everything is OK, my lifestyles brings me riches Me and Mess in a Lex, while the Quinn pops the b**hes My cousin Kelly on the phone with Julio Damn, who made this beat? It's my n***a Coolio So do your duty, hoe; respect a n***a to the fullest Every time we walk through, all you wanna do is pull us So what you think? Do you b**hes have some time? Better yet, do you hoes have a dime? Bein' broke is a grind, that's why we all comin' tight b**hes keep your sh** tight; if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 4: Naked] It's your Crestside potna in this b**h off the heezy Doin' what I do, stayin' true to the 3C's Which is we evaded D's, makin' G's, takin' these Livin' experiences, such as shakin' ki's Breakin' these b**hes in a vicious fashion The name is Naked, respect it or get a lashin' I'm back and forth from the studio to the dope track So when I grab the mic, why should I hold back? I sold crack, way before they called it yay Done been to prison, now I'm back with my boy Mac Dre Stackin' pay as I say my say and do my dues An actual factual muthaf**a, I thought you knew [Verse 5: San Quinn] It never stop, it never quit, so represent my residence To the highest, we flyest muthaf**as since United Not divided but unified, retaliate to the murder, I Hope they let k** it when I be feelin' what's inside my a** Quick to blast, slow to speak, we can grip or chunk ‘em Heated discussions always lead to somethin' that might be dumpin' Pumpin' raw ‘caine to the veins without a flaw I answer y'all so profane how I came to your f**in' jaw Haters can't get around me, I sport that s**a repellent From a mile away, I spot a s**a smellin' like he jealous Well of us goodfellas, we only goodfellas The hotelers will forever be drug sellers and dank smokers Too ferocious to approach in the wrong fashion We mashin', a**a**ins, a silence with violence Is life, b**hes get macked, riches get stacked Since I'm on the track, I say the true facts From the Bay to Montego, servin' this game to my people That's lethal, you know how we do, n***a [Verse 6: Juggy] On your marks, get set, you s**as better get ready I'm steppin' out your dreams like a n***a named Freddy Krueger, the name rhymes with 9-millimeter Luger And f**in' with mine, punk n***a, I'll do ya 3C's down is where I chill at, get my scrill at Stay real at, and every day I get scratch It's like an itch, and I'm addicted So Lord could you please help me get this Monkey off my back before I gets my gat Put it to your dome, and dare you to talk back Ain't no slackin' on my pimpin', b**h, don't put up a fight A n***a gots to come tight, if it ain't real it ain't right [Verse 7: Mac Dre] It's the Mac named Dre from the C-R-E-S-T Gettin' dough with my folks from the ‘Moe, young Messy Marv and we starvin' for more dollars So we pimps a b**h and get hoe dollars See, I love to clock but keep it real though Droppin' sauce with boss playas from Fillmore Now pay close attention as I put this script down And rap about these s**as and these b**hes they kick down I'm Mac Dre, and I'm hooked with the Romp crew And getting' filthy rich off a b**h is what Romp do Playa haters hate to see a young brotha ridin' From the other side, you hear ‘run, brotha, hide' ‘Cause I be servin' muthaf**as with this Double-R press game A goddamn savage comin' straight out the Crest, mayne 3C soldier Double-R for life And if it ain't real, cuddie, you know it ain't right