Reality Check

[Verse 1: Cavie]
Now watch me somersault, flip-flop, flip-flop, double backdrop
A hand full of rhythm and wipe my ass with this track
Flush the camo, and explode with the vocal pitch
The lyrical mad man-murderer is up in this bitch
Now all these record labels looking for the Cavie
Small time independent producers is coming crafty
No royalties nigga, ain't Nate and Pac
And sign for one year with seven motherfucking options
Bound to a contract; that shit ain't even cool
Feeling like a ho, doing involuntary servitude
What's even worse is yo shady ass manager
Telling you to sign your name so it's on shit that could damage ya
Amateur ass motherfuckers in my business
Ain't even got no skills, and tryna make decisions
Thinking that they got a nigga locked up for years
But ain't no busta motherfucker can fuck off my career

[Chorus: Peeps Game]
The reality check is for those bustas who be frontin', see
And all those busta ass fags in the industry
So watch your backs, and keep your backs watched
Cause you never know who could be clocking yo pockets
Gunshots if ya try to clock Glocks
Set tripping, acting like ya know
T.K.O. if ya think so, don't be that punk ho
It's business, not yo sho
Reality's checked, now ya know

[Verse 2: Peeps Game]
I've been through so much drama that this shit is like a movie
Changing scripts on me? Causing me to wreck my mind
I've been on my good behavior
Tryna do the right thing, cause music is my savior
But, I have to deal with knuckleheads who be tripping on they headtrips
I just spit on that shit, cause I'm red
The approaches I get are so funny
Thank God I'm smarting than those honeys who be juggling us for money
I have my bulletproof mind on
Check yaself, grab ya bags and don't be so shallow
I battle if I have to set you straight, even raise ya tone of voice
When you're speaking to me, I am the real and nobody
A female was tripped on my the pure power
Battlecat picked the track so now you can devour
The drama has been taped into ya mind
Check reality and see through the lights
Don't wait for the truth to find you
All you need to do is be true
And check the fools that try to get you, that's real

[Chorus: Peeps Game]
The reality check is for those bustas who be frontin', see
And all those busta ass fags in the industry
So watch your backs, and keep your backs watched
Cause you never know who could be clocking yo pockets
Gunshots if ya try to clock Glocks
Set tripping, acting like ya know
T.K.O. if ya think so, don't be that punk ho
It's business, not yo sho
Reality's checked, now ya know

[Verse 3: Playa Hamm]
Now I’m known for bringing these bustas heads when it comes to it
While spitting mack, intoxicated like a fat ass bootsack
In fact, many must not screw it thinking since it’s on their conversation
But I just can’t see no retaliation
I told ya, when I entered this game
I raise the spot with a passion and affection that’s trashing
And this is how I’m living
So you could take this reality check to the neck homies and come correct
Like it seems to me the players doing it in the East
Putting it down, so everyone can get upon a piece
A robbery is what I’m stressing not to set trip
Too many tricks don’t wanna see me with no pimp as it is
Like this here used to allocate on bottoms, went from my coming
Niggas act like we can’t have nothing if they ain’t getting some
These suckers know who made it easier to slang a sack
Don’t let the media make you have to question your back
Cause it’s ours for the taking, [?] the shaking and faking
Cause it’s way too much money that them mothers making
First it’s gon’ take you and me, then it’s gon’ take us and we
Cause ours will never be if together you can’t see

[Verse 4: Kam]
Yo what time is it? Niggas do y’all really know?
What everybody have to act so silly fo’, really doe?
Until we go Hollywood the niggas be cool
Then they start blowing up and act a goddamn fool
Getting gassed up, and passed up every opportunity
To make sure the West Coast had the proper unity
But nah, it’s always the same, no?
Money and fame, they say that’s all I’m in the game fo’
So what’s my name? I get my bud from the spot
I’m Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire, I own a mansion and a yacht
Got killas on deck that’ll peel ya cap
Well, I can dance to the beat but can’t feel ya rap
It’s a reality check

[Chorus: Peeps Game]
The reality check is for those bustas who be frontin', see
And all those busta ass fags in the industry
So watch your backs, and keep your backs watched
Cause you never know who could be clocking yo pockets
Gunshots if ya try to clock Glocks
Set tripping, acting like ya know
T.K.O. if ya think so, don't be that punk ho
It's business, not yo sho
Reality's checked, now ya know