Yung Booke - Real n***as lyrics

[Intro] They make believe these n***as too fake Make believe these n***as too fake [Hook] Louie V's with no shoelace Drinkin' lean like it Kool-Aid These VVS ain't no fugaz' They make believe these n***as too fake I f** with real n***as and bad b**hes Got the real n***as and bad b**hes Real n***as and bad b**hes Now where my real n***as and bad b**hes? [Verse 1] Gold Rollie, VS1's Chain bussin like Vietnam See it with you, lil bling bling on Like it came straight from Cheech and Chong No shoe strings, I mean Louie Vuitton No 2 chainz, I got 3 on You n***as goin nuts over pecans I'm a big dog, you're a pee-on Bad b**hes and real n***as Polo, no Hilfiger ‘Cause Players Only Live Once Rest in peace Chad Butler I'm still pimpin It ain't dead, I'm still livin Dead Prez is my True Religion I'm too hot, I need a cool a**istant Call the cops because my roof is missin' (Verse) Sippin lean like it Kool-Aid White bread like too paid Getting more head than toupee Diamond clear like Blu-Ray Lil n***a you too fake Your b**h say she want a real n***a You try to hide or you can try to save her Nevermind, I'ma still hit her [Hook] [Verse 2] Outfit clean OCD f** around, put a pimp on a CD Who the f** got a bank round this b**h We done pour it up like Ri Ri AP and wet with the VV It's the same thing on my necklace I don't be facin' my dealers just like she on front of the magazine Thirty rounds in the magazine Fresh out that jet, lil b**h we traveling Smoking on gasoline All I needs is sorta oh fairly Yea, I'm iced out and I'm geeked Said f** D in the street I'm yelling lines in these streets short [Verse 3] Real n***as and bad b**hes Cash getting yo a** kissed Count twenty thousand like ten minutes Got a foreign whip with your b**h in it Hustle Gang, my team winnin' Sleep then and when I'm still sippin' Wanna pop the clip and you get rippin' I'mma f** around this of the louitinents And it's all about the paper You block just sweat like the Lakers Uh, west side, they know me Two times, for the Doe B Louie's got blood on my hoffy Broke n***a, G.D.O.D I shout like one of Birdman to you Smoking D-O-P-E [Hook] [Verse 4] LV's, True Religion All these racks can't fit up in it VVS got blood in it My money longer than life sentence Her p**y good like soul food Your main b**h is my old news She got the red bottoms, Jimmy Choo's I ain't get that b**h a pair of house shoes Red box, co*ktail All my n***as jumpin off the porch All my n***as be going for broke I'm mad talkin like Scott Storch Styrofoam, double cup Blowin up bout two 4's The baddest b**h you ever seen Like stolen rims, she's on all fours [Bridge] f** them f** n***as, I know they hate us ‘Cause all my n***as getting paper Fifty bottles, we got em raised up I done f**ed the ho, so why you got em caged up? [Hook]