[Intro]  On them streets  You better keep your hand on them heats  And live what you sayin' on them beats  Real talk..    [Verse 1]  They ain't walkin' the walk, they just talkin' the talk  Some people look at me as the real talk of New York  I ain't these like these niggaz who be feinin' to front  Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt  Look I don't be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front  In somethin' that you seen and you want  But otherwise I'm cool wit' it  They say only the ones who never had gon' get and act a fool wit' it  Everybodys' gangsta through the promotion  Even if they raised in a house wit' a view of the ocean  The bangers is growin' upset  Cuz' ya' ass is on t.v. throwin' up sets  And you know you ain't like that  But you'll say that you is  Go and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its his  You ain't a pimp or you wouldn't go to dinner wit' groupies  Ain't a baller cuz' you wouldn't put spinners on hoopties    [Hook 2X]  1-2-3; you don't really wanna fuck wit me  Get in the way you could get yourself shot  Fuck the cops, you on my block  Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga    [Verse 2]  How can niggaz say they be on the other side of the seas'  Where the steering wheels are on the other side of the v's  And the home look like the spot on the other side of the c's  When they ain't never been on the other side of the p's  I ca' see through em', ya tents are too light  Every sentence you write is far from the truth  You wanna be that nigga you are in the booth  But you ain't got the heart, the scars, or the proof  And now you flash ya' shirt tag in our grill  But I'm hearin' you was a dirtbag before the deal  You walk around talkin' how every dime sucked  When they don't even speak to you, nevermind fucked you  Ya' hood sayin' don't come back  Step foot in here, and they gon' put you where you won't come back  Dog, how the fuck you gon' have keys in ya' house  When ya' moms' won't even give you keys to the house loser    [Hook]    [Verse 3]  Nigga you in the mirror, checkin' what your make ups' lookin' like  Tryina fool the world wit' a Jacob look-a-like  Jiving like you hold stacks  But ya' car is ten years old homie, ya' drivin' in a throwback  They gon' strip you, have you runnin' naked next  Without security you like unprotected sex  You ain't never gon' finger a trigger  All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga  I real recognize real, you'd be a john doe  You livin' in a closet and call it a condo  I don't member you as a slinger that was on the bench  Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments  Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans  Nah, I think its these hip hop con mans  Studio gangstas is played out now  This ain't the eighties, battle raps'll get you layed out  Fucka    [Hook]    [Outro]  1-2-3; and any time that you on them streets  You better keep your hand on them heats  And live what you sayin' on them beats  Real talk  Real talk  It's really really really really real talk  It's really really really really real talk  It's really really really really real talk  It's really really really really real talk