Real Life (Clean Version)

[Intro: Kool G Rap]
This one is for my peeps out on the street and six feet, baby. (Uh, uh). Watch yourself, kid. The jakes be deep and on the creep now. (What the deal? What the deal?). This one is for my duns that’s upstate and doing long bids. (For real, kid). We stay repping for Queens, infrared beams

[Verse 1: Kool G Rap]
Ayyo, I’ll only rock with fam and plot-planning niggas that cock the cannons
Run with the ox-jamming niggas, do a whole bid in the box standing
Eight niggas that’s quick to hop in the van and cock Glocks and
Put the drop on top of the whole block gambling, turn in the nice linen
Gun shots got 'em scrambling. Leave 'em for cops to examine
The streets are frigid, so I speak it vivid
Sleep with it, love it, and live it. If you want one of these slugs
I'ma give it and pop you 'till you drop liquid
Your days are numbered—I’ll keep dropping the digits
Bodies get sent to the chop shop like Civics
All for popping up on the wrong blocks to visit
The wrong spot to risk it
Nothing but hollow tops in the biscuits
Get helicopter-lifted out, you hot lizards
Keeping far from the child shit—.40 cal. spit
Running with wild cliques, dead you and beat the murder trial shit
12-valve whips. The strip is scorching
Flooded with drug enforcement lawmen stripping your fortune
Shorties are like the Statue of Liberty
They stay lifting the torch and orphans spit the fifth often
Mad chicks get abortions. Weak ones lay stiff in a coffin
Federal stakeouts, spots get raided, shots get traded
Coming to lock everything rock-related. Keeping the cell blocks
Overly populated. Incarcerated Scarfaces intoxicated
The knives get operated, some get chopped and faded
Leaving to bleed, in need for medical aid from sharp metal, get laid
When shit get hot, it's hard to settle the blaze
The ghetto we praise, nigga

[Hook: Kool G Rap] (x2)
The life you hold is ‘bout good as the dice you roll
Be careful, kid. The streets is ice-cold
The thirsty worms out working the night patrol
For the price of gold. And the story of our life get told, nigga

[Verse 2: Kool G Rap]
Ayyo, how many make it out? It's one in a million
Scared to death ‘cause one of your children
Just might be the next one to get stressed in front of the building
Dumbing out, pulling guns out, running with villains
Living in pain, kid in the street game
Trapped in these blocks where the heat flame
Where niggas reach for they thing, speak slang
Chop your grill until the meat hang
Busting their gats, run in the deep gangs
Look out for the cheap dames that set you up
Invite you to the crib to wet you up, lift your necklace up
Bringing a clique to lift and mess you up
Smith and Wess you up. Never press your luck
Be prepared to bust. How many you dare to trust?
Keep your friends close and enemies closer
I’ll pour double shots of Remi to toast your
Friendly ghost until it give me ulcers
Send some Guineas to roast ya
If they can't approach us, send me the semi toasters
Give 'em the Kennedy doses: fifty in your boulder
Life is about bending them slimmies over. Plenty Bentleys and Rovers
Half-naked women for limmy chauffeurs. Crib with the Fendi sofas
Black Cosa Nostras, crack Jehovas stacking like Sosa
Tailor-made suits with Gucci penny loafers, MAC-10s in holsters
For rats and vultures. Having DT's package and coach us
The raps are vulgar, blow the backs of cobras
Run with the gat exploders, gunslingers
Call us the slum-hangers, the brick-a-ton bringers
The slingers keep one in the chamber, baby

[Hook: Kool G Rap] (x2)
The life you hold is ‘bout good as the dice you roll
Be careful, kid. The streets is ice-cold
The thirsty worms out working the night patrol
For the price of gold. And the story of our life get told, nigga