(feat. Cutty Mack, Juan)



[Intro: Juan]

Whoo!  Whattup Billy Nix?

Yeah, it's your man Juan!

Yeah (yeahhh yeahhh yeahhh) Street Lord Mafia

It's your man Juan, "The Real Me"

Go get that, in stores everywhere

This a monster kid (yeah) whattup Kino?

[KRS-One: x4] "No, talent, rappers!"

Whattup Bo?  Yeah, yeah, spit sixteen

Yeah, alright.. yeah



[Verse One: Juan]

I fell in love with hip-hop, I wanna rap cousin

That's when he gave me a brick, told me wrap some'n

Crack some'n, act some'n, pack some'n, stack some'n

Gat some'n, back stuntin, don't make me clap some'n

I tell niggaz once, then I'm back bustin

Gats dumpin, that's nothin, pass me the bag young'n

I beat niggaz bloody - weak niggaz swear they thugs

'til they mugs full of blood, they say J nutty

We never rock bottom, I'm on the block whylin

Flock niggaz stock pilin, squads out the drop clownin

On my 7-digit, bitch you will never get it

Spittin like that, I'm in the kitchen writin raps

with the cheddar sittin, by the glocks and the grams

and the box of seran, in the bakin soda vision

where pots and the pans, rockin a slab

Niggaz swear they the shit 'til they rottin in a bag



[Chorus: Royce]

"No, talent, rappers!" [x8]

You hearin the beat nigga

Real niggaz here witchu Juan

Cutty, Mack, me, Five, Nine

Nigga streets is mines...

Ride out!  C'mon, c'mon

Yeah, the M.I.C.!  Yeah, regardless

Yeah, yeah, street BOYS!



[Verse Two: Royce Da 5'9"]

Yeah, I'm in the drop with the top up with cash

Mashin the pot with the glock in the stash

You boxin you possibly got you a shot in yo' ass

Dropped in a box in the trash

Chopped into pieces, stabbed with the top of you leakin

Feet from the opposite half of you reekin

Cops with they badges, keep 'em

I stock 'em for cheap (yeah) charges get dropped

quick as I could get knocked then I'm back on the streets

The untraceable track, mop and the bleach (yeah)

It's a check if he gets on it, spits on it

Wreckin the next nigga destined to flip on it

For that paper with the dead presidents on 'em

Best flow nigga put yo' neck and your wrist on it

A soldier be rollin for dolo, for dollars

Yo' flow to mines is, like a Rover to and Impala



[Chorus]



[Verse Three: Cutty Mack]

In a spot in a lab - and killin niggaz

is somethin that's probably tagged on a block with the mag

While the track spittin mad, killin whole staffs

Whip opponents, I'm choppin the whole car in half

I'm a gangsta nigga, if I can't care nigga

Shank a nigga, make a nigga shakin 'til he skatin in a

ambulance with the sirens off, in the Benz whippin off

Let my little young'ns take the tires off

Real hip-hop (snitches get dropped)

Cocaine, get rock, operation skip watch

I spit it street cause it's in me

I know "Death is Certain" so I merk a nigga 'fore he merk me

Niggaz act silly, 'til you catch 'em sizzling

Put the semi-slugs in 'em 'til he shit and pissin Remy

I'm a nut punk, bust pump, snatch trunks

Mashed up, smack chumps, look at 'em like "AND WHAT!"



[Chorus]



"No, talent, rappers!" [x4]