Trunk Shit

[Verse 1 : Von Pea]
Welcome to the real, bearers of your bad news
We appreciate the no, ain't nobody ask you
We are how you get the cheerleaders in the band room
Pioneers thru the Pioneers in a mass
Who’s messing with the lesson author
This is no departure, this is for arrivals
Pull up throw your hood up
If you do it for survival
Nevermind a side view
Niggas know the profile
Fans I don't lie to
Liable to chastize guys with the haikus
Lessondary in here
All of them are fly too
Skinny Big in philly getting beats from my guy who
Told you on “Peas Gotta” he knew we were right
You slept it's aight duke
Even if im chose last
Imma hit the winning shot
All of you can note that
Should I slow it down some and if so how come?
Is it 'cause your favorite is afraid to be outdone
He know not to call us
Yeah we put in all us
Shorty heard we bought the toys out and got dolled up
Phasing out you groupies I don't wanna tag her walls up
She be letting rappers Foursquare in her nah bruh
Geotag that ass its Von Pea
CI to Long Beach
We rhyme with all heat
'Til we in them floor seats
But things I do is real it never haunts me
Beat Street, Wall Street iI'll meet em at the cross street

[Chorus]
This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit)
This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit)
Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing (trunk shit)
Hit the detail shop man the whip so clean
Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing
Find a parking spot and let the beats just bang (trunk shit)

[Verse 2: Donwill]
I’m in an all white Chevy with the dual exhaust
And the speakers ain’t bolted so it rattle and cough
But when my sneakers ain’t speaking, the whip it talks
I ain't pay that much, it don’t matter the cost
'cus what’s a few stacks? a small set back for the champ
Had to pull over, fuck around, ya boy blew an amp
And the backpack in the back seat by the notepad
Boom bap blasting out the speakers
They say that we a tribe called De La, or smaller little brother
All i know is that we do it better than the others
Spell my name right my nigga show us that you love it
I’m talking mine and the group, not one or the other
Come on and get the name right before you claim that you know us
30 rock this is not, we the other morgan
Matter fact scratch that and call it TM for short
I need an ink pen for sport and a weekend resort
Off the deep end of thought, often sleeping on Don
“Not Him!?!”, pretend I’m not hot be defending yours
I been, on my shit for a decade plus
Too long? nah nigga. you? not long enough
Yup! The new school veteran just dusted off the letterman
Consider these crowbars in case they don’t let us in
To pop locks and stop all that Re-Run shit
Y’all some jogging ass niggas homie we run this…
Trunk shit

[Chorus]
This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit)
This is for the real (trunk shit), this is for the real (trunk shit)
Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing (trunk shit)
Hit the detail shop man the whip so clean
Let the woofers knock and the tweeters sing
Find a parking spot and let the beats just bang (trunk shit)