[{"id":1306169,"name":"Real Niggaz","trackName":"Real Niggaz","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Malpractice","duration":266.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\nReal niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\nLouder\n\nYeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\nDo you really think you ready for this, c'mon\nDo you know that you ready for this, huh\nWe gonna see if you ready for this\n\nI be the street sweeper, nigga\nQuick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\nFrom fuckin' round with the Midack\nEleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\nFuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\nI done came here to get brains\nShoot you twice in your stomach\nThen leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\nYou're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\nThese niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\nAnd bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\nWith Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\nI told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\nSo bitch be more specific when you spit for me\nIt ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\nDisease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\nPlastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nYo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\nP P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\nThorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\nI fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\nMy tape is off safety, tongue the gun\nMouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\nSo what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\nWe grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\nYou sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\nWe only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\nYoung Ike Turners, disco inferners\nConcentration camp, nobody turn up\n\nI roll up a X that came with kits\nLeave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\nI can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\nIt blow the block down while I change the clip\n\nYo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\nAnd I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\nNiggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\nBut they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\nAnd I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\nA attitude, that's what I don't walk without\nNigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\nIc is the man, and I never been to Japan\nGot a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\nThis is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\nGo and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\nSkunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\nPull the pump out slow, dump out foe\nI'm the nigga, that the streets raised\nI'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\nThe nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\nIf he don't give Icarus shit a replay\nPoker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\nAnd my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nFirst of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\nI was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\nI'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\nI'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\nI look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\nI'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\nOr a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\nOr a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\nOr a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\nOr a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\nI'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\nI'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\nI'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\nI'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\nWe real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\nReal niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\nBullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\nTrigger Treach\nBastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\nFuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\nChristmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\nGettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\nWho's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\nName is Hey, with the Gay-G after\nMy thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\nSee them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\nMally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\nIn crowded armories, fuck with Redman\nYou're a dead man at the robbery\nYou'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\nI'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\nBeat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\nYour skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\nRusty and trusty, musty wack nasty","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Real Niggaz\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Malpractice\n  duration_ms: 266000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\n  Louder\n\n  Yeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you really think you ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you know that you ready for this, huh\n  We gonna see if you ready for this\n\n  I be the street sweeper, nigga\n  Quick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\n  From fuckin' round with the Midack\n  Eleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\n  Fuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\n  I done came here to get brains\n  Shoot you twice in your stomach\n  Then leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\n  You're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\n  These niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\n  And bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\n  With Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\n  I told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\n  So bitch be more specific when you spit for me\n  It ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\n  Disease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\n  Plastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\n  P P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\n  Thorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\n  I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\n  My tape is off safety, tongue the gun\n  Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\n  So what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\n  We grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\n  You sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\n  We only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\n  Young Ike Turners, disco inferners\n  Concentration camp, nobody turn up\n\n  I roll up a X that came with kits\n  Leave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\n  I can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\n  It blow the block down while I change the clip\n\n  Yo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n  'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\n  And I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\n  Niggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\n  But they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\n  And I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\n  A attitude, that's what I don't walk without\n  Nigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\n  Ic is the man, and I never been to Japan\n  Got a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\n  This is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\n  Go and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\n  Skunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\n  Pull the pump out slow, dump out foe\n  I'm the nigga, that the streets raised\n  I'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\n  The nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\n  If he don't give Icarus shit a replay\n  Poker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\n  And my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  First of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\n  I was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\n  I'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\n  I'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\n  I look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\n  I'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\n  Or a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\n  Or a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\n  Or a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\n  Or a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\n  I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\n  I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\n  I'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\n  I'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\n  We real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\n  Real niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\n  Bullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\n  Trigger Treach\n  Bastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\n  Fuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\n  Christmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\n  Gettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\n  Who's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\n  Name is Hey, with the Gay-G after\n  My thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\n  See them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\n  Mally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\n  In crowded armories, fuck with Redman\n  You're a dead man at the robbery\n  You'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\n  I'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\n  Beat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\n  Your skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\n  Rusty and trusty, musty wack nasty\n"},{"id":18778802,"name":"Real Niggaz","trackName":"Real Niggaz","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Malpractice","duration":315.3566,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\nReal niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\nLouder\n\nYeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\nDo you really think you ready for this, c'mon\nDo you know that you ready for this, huh\nWe gonna see if you ready for this\n\nI be the street sweeper, nigga\nQuick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\nFrom fuckin' round with the Midack\nEleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\nFuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\nI done came here to get brains\nShoot you twice in your stomach\nThen leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\nYou're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\nThese niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\nAnd bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\nWith Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\nI told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\nSo bitch be more specific when you spit for me\nIt ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\nDisease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\nPlastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nYo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\nP P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\nThorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\nI fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\nMy tape is off safety, tongue the gun\nMouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\nSo what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\nWe grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\nYou sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\nWe only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\nYoung Ike Turners, disco inferners\nConcentration camp, nobody turn up\n\nI roll up a X that came with kits\nLeave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\nI can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\nIt blow the block down while I change the clip\n\nYo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\nAnd I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\nNiggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\nBut they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\nAnd I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\nA attitude, that's what I don't walk without\nNigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\nIc is the man, and I never been to Japan\nGot a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\nThis is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\nGo and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\nSkunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\nPull the pump out slow, dump out foe\nI'm the nigga, that the streets raised\nI'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\nThe nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\nIf he don't give Icarus shit a replay\nPoker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\nAnd my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nFirst of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\nI was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\nI'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\nI'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\nI look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\nI'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\nOr a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\nOr a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\nOr a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\nOr a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\nI'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\nI'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\nI'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\nI'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\nWe real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\nReal niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\nBullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\nTrigger Treach\nBastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\nFuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\nChristmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\nGettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\nWho's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\nName is Hey, with the Gay-G after\nMy thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\nSee them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\nMally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\nIn crowded armories, fuck with Redman\nYou're a dead man at the robbery\nYou'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\nI'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\nBeat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\nYour skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\nRusty and trusty, musty wack nasty","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Real Niggaz\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Malpractice\n  duration_ms: 315357\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\n  Louder\n\n  Yeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you really think you ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you know that you ready for this, huh\n  We gonna see if you ready for this\n\n  I be the street sweeper, nigga\n  Quick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\n  From fuckin' round with the Midack\n  Eleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\n  Fuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\n  I done came here to get brains\n  Shoot you twice in your stomach\n  Then leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\n  You're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\n  These niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\n  And bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\n  With Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\n  I told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\n  So bitch be more specific when you spit for me\n  It ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\n  Disease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\n  Plastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\n  P P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\n  Thorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\n  I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\n  My tape is off safety, tongue the gun\n  Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\n  So what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\n  We grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\n  You sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\n  We only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\n  Young Ike Turners, disco inferners\n  Concentration camp, nobody turn up\n\n  I roll up a X that came with kits\n  Leave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\n  I can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\n  It blow the block down while I change the clip\n\n  Yo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n  'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\n  And I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\n  Niggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\n  But they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\n  And I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\n  A attitude, that's what I don't walk without\n  Nigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\n  Ic is the man, and I never been to Japan\n  Got a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\n  This is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\n  Go and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\n  Skunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\n  Pull the pump out slow, dump out foe\n  I'm the nigga, that the streets raised\n  I'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\n  The nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\n  If he don't give Icarus shit a replay\n  Poker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\n  And my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  First of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\n  I was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\n  I'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\n  I'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\n  I look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\n  I'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\n  Or a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\n  Or a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\n  Or a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\n  Or a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\n  I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\n  I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\n  I'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\n  I'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\n  We real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\n  Real niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\n  Bullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\n  Trigger Treach\n  Bastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\n  Fuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\n  Christmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\n  Gettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\n  Who's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\n  Name is Hey, with the Gay-G after\n  My thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\n  See them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\n  Mally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\n  In crowded armories, fuck with Redman\n  You're a dead man at the robbery\n  You'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\n  I'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\n  Beat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\n  Your skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\n  Rusty and trusty, musty wack nasty\n"},{"id":34698465,"name":"07 Real Niggaz","trackName":"07 Real Niggaz","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Malpractice","duration":315.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\nReal niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\nLouder\n\nYeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\nDo you really think you ready for this, c'mon\nDo you know that you ready for this, huh\nWe gonna see if you ready for this\n\nI be the street sweeper, nigga\nQuick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\nFrom fuckin' round with the Midack\nEleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\nFuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\nI done came here to get brains\nShoot you twice in your stomach\nThen leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\nYou're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\nThese niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\nAnd bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\nWith Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\nI told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\nSo bitch be more specific when you spit for me\nIt ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\nDisease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\nPlastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nYo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\nP P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\nThorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\nI fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\nMy tape is off safety, tongue the gun\nMouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\nSo what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\nWe grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\nYou sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\nWe only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\nYoung Ike Turners, disco inferners\nConcentration camp, nobody turn up\n\nI roll up a X that came with kits\nLeave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\nI can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\nIt blow the block down while I change the clip\n\nYo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\nAnd I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\nNiggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\nBut they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\nAnd I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\nA attitude, that's what I don't walk without\nNigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\nIc is the man, and I never been to Japan\nGot a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\nThis is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\nGo and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\nSkunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\nPull the pump out slow, dump out foe\nI'm the nigga, that the streets raised\nI'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\nThe nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\nIf he don't give Icarus shit a replay\nPoker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\nAnd my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nFirst of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\nI was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\nI'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\nI'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\nI look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\nI'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\nOr a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\nOr a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\nOr a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\nOr a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\nI'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\nI'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\nI'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\nI'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\nWe real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\nReal niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\nBullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\nTrigger Treach\nBastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\nFuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\nChristmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\nGettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\nWho's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\nName is Hey, with the Gay-G after\nMy thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\nSee them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\nMally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\nIn crowded armories, fuck with Redman\nYou're a dead man at the robbery\nYou'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\nI'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\nBeat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\nYour skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\nRusty and trusty, musty wack nasty","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 07 Real Niggaz\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Malpractice\n  duration_ms: 315000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\n  Louder\n\n  Yeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you really think you ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you know that you ready for this, huh\n  We gonna see if you ready for this\n\n  I be the street sweeper, nigga\n  Quick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\n  From fuckin' round with the Midack\n  Eleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\n  Fuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\n  I done came here to get brains\n  Shoot you twice in your stomach\n  Then leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\n  You're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\n  These niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\n  And bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\n  With Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\n  I told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\n  So bitch be more specific when you spit for me\n  It ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\n  Disease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\n  Plastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\n  P P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\n  Thorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\n  I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\n  My tape is off safety, tongue the gun\n  Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\n  So what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\n  We grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\n  You sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\n  We only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\n  Young Ike Turners, disco inferners\n  Concentration camp, nobody turn up\n\n  I roll up a X that came with kits\n  Leave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\n  I can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\n  It blow the block down while I change the clip\n\n  Yo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n  'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\n  And I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\n  Niggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\n  But they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\n  And I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\n  A attitude, that's what I don't walk without\n  Nigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\n  Ic is the man, and I never been to Japan\n  Got a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\n  This is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\n  Go and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\n  Skunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\n  Pull the pump out slow, dump out foe\n  I'm the nigga, that the streets raised\n  I'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\n  The nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\n  If he don't give Icarus shit a replay\n  Poker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\n  And my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  First of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\n  I was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\n  I'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\n  I'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\n  I look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\n  I'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\n  Or a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\n  Or a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\n  Or a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\n  Or a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\n  I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\n  I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\n  I'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\n  I'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\n  We real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\n  Real niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\n  Bullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\n  Trigger Treach\n  Bastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\n  Fuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\n  Christmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\n  Gettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\n  Who's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\n  Name is Hey, with the Gay-G after\n  My thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\n  See them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\n  Mally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\n  In crowded armories, fuck with Redman\n  You're a dead man at the robbery\n  You'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\n  I'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\n  Beat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\n  Your skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\n  Rusty and trusty, musty wack nasty\n"},{"id":5336339,"name":"Real Niggaz - Album Version (Edited)","trackName":"Real Niggaz - Album Version (Edited)","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Malpractice","duration":266.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\nReal niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\nLouder\n\nYeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\nDo you really think you ready for this, c'mon\nDo you know that you ready for this, huh\nWe gonna see if you ready for this\n\nI be the street sweeper, nigga\nQuick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\nFrom fuckin' round with the Midack\nEleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\nFuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\nI done came here to get brains\nShoot you twice in your stomach\nThen leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\nYou're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\nThese niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\nAnd bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\nWith Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\nI told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\nSo bitch be more specific when you spit for me\nIt ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\nDisease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\nPlastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nYo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\nP P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\nThorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\nI fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\nMy tape is off safety, tongue the gun\nMouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\nSo what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\nWe grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\nYou sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\nWe only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\nYoung Ike Turners, disco inferners\nConcentration camp, nobody turn up\n\nI roll up a X that came with kits\nLeave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\nI can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\nIt blow the block down while I change the clip\n\nYo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\nAnd I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\nNiggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\nBut they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\nAnd I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\nA attitude, that's what I don't walk without\nNigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\nIc is the man, and I never been to Japan\nGot a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\nThis is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\nGo and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\nSkunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\nPull the pump out slow, dump out foe\nI'm the nigga, that the streets raised\nI'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\nThe nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\nIf he don't give Icarus shit a replay\nPoker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\nAnd my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nFirst of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\nI was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\nI'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\nI'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\nI look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\nI'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\nOr a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\nOr a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\nOr a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\nOr a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\nI'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\nI'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\nI'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\nI'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\nWe real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\nReal niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\nBullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\nTrigger Treach\nBastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\nFuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\nChristmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\nGettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\nWho's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\nName is Hey, with the Gay-G after\nMy thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\nSee them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\nMally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\nIn crowded armories, fuck with Redman\nYou're a dead man at the robbery\nYou'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\nI'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\nBeat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\nYour skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\nRusty and trusty, musty wack nasty","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Real Niggaz - Album Version (Edited)\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Malpractice\n  duration_ms: 266000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\n  Louder\n\n  Yeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you really think you ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you know that you ready for this, huh\n  We gonna see if you ready for this\n\n  I be the street sweeper, nigga\n  Quick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\n  From fuckin' round with the Midack\n  Eleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\n  Fuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\n  I done came here to get brains\n  Shoot you twice in your stomach\n  Then leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\n  You're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\n  These niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\n  And bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\n  With Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\n  I told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\n  So bitch be more specific when you spit for me\n  It ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\n  Disease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\n  Plastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\n  P P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\n  Thorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\n  I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\n  My tape is off safety, tongue the gun\n  Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\n  So what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\n  We grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\n  You sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\n  We only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\n  Young Ike Turners, disco inferners\n  Concentration camp, nobody turn up\n\n  I roll up a X that came with kits\n  Leave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\n  I can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\n  It blow the block down while I change the clip\n\n  Yo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n  'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\n  And I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\n  Niggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\n  But they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\n  And I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\n  A attitude, that's what I don't walk without\n  Nigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\n  Ic is the man, and I never been to Japan\n  Got a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\n  This is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\n  Go and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\n  Skunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\n  Pull the pump out slow, dump out foe\n  I'm the nigga, that the streets raised\n  I'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\n  The nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\n  If he don't give Icarus shit a replay\n  Poker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\n  And my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  First of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\n  I was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\n  I'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\n  I'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\n  I look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\n  I'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\n  Or a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\n  Or a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\n  Or a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\n  Or a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\n  I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\n  I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\n  I'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\n  I'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\n  We real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\n  Real niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\n  Bullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\n  Trigger Treach\n  Bastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\n  Fuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\n  Christmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\n  Gettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\n  Who's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\n  Name is Hey, with the Gay-G after\n  My thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\n  See them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\n  Mally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\n  In crowded armories, fuck with Redman\n  You're a dead man at the robbery\n  You'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\n  I'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\n  Beat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\n  Your skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\n  Rusty and trusty, musty wack nasty\n"},{"id":40181427,"name":"Real Niggaz Feat. Scarface, Tr","trackName":"Real Niggaz Feat. Scarface, Tr","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Malpractice","duration":315.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\nReal niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\nLouder\n\nYeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\nDo you really think you ready for this, c'mon\nDo you know that you ready for this, huh\nWe gonna see if you ready for this\n\nI be the street sweeper, nigga\nQuick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\nFrom fuckin' round with the Midack\nEleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\nFuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\nI done came here to get brains\nShoot you twice in your stomach\nThen leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\nYou're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\nThese niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\nAnd bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\nWith Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\nI told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\nSo bitch be more specific when you spit for me\nIt ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\nDisease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\nPlastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nYo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\nP P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\nThorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\nI fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\nMy tape is off safety, tongue the gun\nMouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\nSo what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\nWe grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\nYou sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\nWe only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\nYoung Ike Turners, disco inferners\nConcentration camp, nobody turn up\n\nI roll up a X that came with kits\nLeave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\nI can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\nIt blow the block down while I change the clip\n\nYo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\nAnd I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\nNiggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\nBut they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\nAnd I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\nA attitude, that's what I don't walk without\nNigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\nIc is the man, and I never been to Japan\nGot a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\nThis is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\nGo and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\nSkunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\nPull the pump out slow, dump out foe\nI'm the nigga, that the streets raised\nI'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\nThe nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\nIf he don't give Icarus shit a replay\nPoker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\nAnd my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\nReal niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\nReal niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\nFirst of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\nI was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\nI'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\nI'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\nI look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\nI'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\nOr a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\nOr a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\nOr a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\nOr a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\nI'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\nI'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\nI'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\nI'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\nWe real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\nReal niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\nBullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\nTrigger Treach\nBastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\nFuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\nChristmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\nGettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\nWho's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\nName is Hey, with the Gay-G after\nMy thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\nSee them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\nMally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\nIn crowded armories, fuck with Redman\nYou're a dead man at the robbery\nYou'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\nI'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\nBeat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\nYour skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\nRusty and trusty, musty wack nasty","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Real Niggaz Feat. Scarface, Tr\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Malpractice\n  duration_ms: 315350\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Real niggaz, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, real niggaz, yeah, yeah\n  Louder\n\n  Yeah, now, now is you motherfuckers ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you really think you ready for this, c'mon\n  Do you know that you ready for this, huh\n  We gonna see if you ready for this\n\n  I be the street sweeper, nigga\n  Quick to leave your whole block shook an' shot at\n  From fuckin' round with the Midack\n  Eleven, twenty-four, act 47\n\n  Fuck who's standin' around them get close up and down an'\n  I done came here to get brains\n  Shoot you twice in your stomach\n  Then leave your boxin' shorts full of shit stains\n\n  You're, bitch maid, you ain't a gangsta, you a sucker ass\n  These niggaz, scared of your bark, but bitch I touch ass\n  And bust back, what's that, it's face mob in effect\n  With Icarus, Reggie, Jamal and Treach\n\n  I told you that talkin' wasn't shit to me\n  So bitch be more specific when you spit for me\n  It ain't shit to me, you a hoe in fifth degree, a discharge from a dick\n  Disease, you lil' maggot, part time thug for a faggot\n  Plastic ass chump, you don't want no static\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, I thought you knew\n  P P P in the back an' they parkin' to, jump\n  Thorough borough, bricks, ashy elbow kid\n  I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks\n\n  My tape is off safety, tongue the gun\n  Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front\n  So what cha, what cha wanna, yo, my boys is beastie\n  We grew up untamed, unemployed an' eatin'\n\n  You sharks in the water, avoid the deep end\n  We only fuck chicks that enjoys the beatings\n  Young Ike Turners, disco inferners\n  Concentration camp, nobody turn up\n\n  I roll up a X that came with kits\n  Leave you with nightmares, Dana Dane was with\n  I can train yo' bitch, with a chain an' whip\n  It blow the block down while I change the clip\n\n  Yo, don't approach me wrong, little kids call me 'Smokey-mon'\n  'Cause the blunts that I light set off smoke alarms\n  And I stand on the corner 'til my coke is gone\n  Niggaz, wanna get they ice picks, poke the don\n\n  But they know I got a gun big as Oprah's arm\n  And I know a old lady, that'll choke their moms\n  A attitude, that's what I don't walk without\n  Nigga, I'ma time for it, you just talk about\n\n  Ic is the man, and I never been to Japan\n  Got a Japanese bitch, with my dick in her hand\n  This is the plan, I'm about to get in the van\n  Go and get rid of the man, I done did it again\n\n  Skunk I blow, then off to the trunk I go\n  Pull the pump out slow, dump out foe\n  I'm the nigga, that the streets raised\n  I'm the nigga, that'll make 3-ways outta nigga PJ's\n\n  The nigga, that'll smack the shit out the DJ\n  If he don't give Icarus shit a replay\n  Poker flush, y'all niggaz joke too much\n  And my gun got cancer, it smoke too much, we\n\n  Real niggaz, louder, real niggaz, louder, louder\n  Real niggaz, yo, real niggaz\n\n  First of all, you gotta have balls unlike some who act hard\n  I was real ever since I shot out my pops black balls\n  I'm real, I can sense danger and tap calls\n  I'm real, I feel when haters wanna clap mal\n\n  I look a nigga, eye to eye when I speak\n  I'm transparent, I can see if you a killer or a freak\n  Or a bitch that'll do anythin' to get rich\n  Or a snitch that'll drop dime on the click\n\n  Or a fake, that'll rather see me at my wake\n  Or a Jake tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case\n  I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face\n  I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste\n\n  I'm a real nigga, if I don't get no bigger\n  I'm five five, still knockin' out tall, niggaz\n  We real niggaz plottin' on dummies with tall figures\n  Real niggaz. hands on forty caliber triggers\n  Bullets hummin', real like Redman's fifth comin'\n\n  Trigger Treach\n  Bastards blunts, Buddhas bullets, black gats is the lingo\n  Fuck a jolly jingle, old bitches break for Bingo\n  Christmas time I crack Yak, an' Kris with Kringle\n  Gettin' funk from Nymphos an' scratch my nuts witcho' single\n\n  Who's the game scratcher minus the rap masters\n  Name is Hey, with the Gay-G after\n  My thugs on the street with the heat, listen to me\n  See them diamond D.M. medallions, snatch, you give 'em to me\n\n  Mally G's a part of me, Icky slips his ownself Mickies\n  In crowded armories, fuck with Redman\n  You're a dead man at the robbery\n  You'll be, Adebisi greasy, put him on to me, fuck that\n\n  I'm a throwin' flames Fanatic, bashin' brains come at it\n  Beat you with the shit that they used to frame the attic\n  Your skank-ass, go 'Voo-doo', poodle-wig wearin' rashy\n  Rusty and trusty, musty wack nasty\n"}]