Real Niggas Testo

Testo Real Niggas

Tiziano Ferro: "A 40 anni sarò padre"
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(feat. Mob Figgas)

[Verse One: C-Bo]

Twenty five years old, still tryin to make a livin off-a
one live, then they're only slugs give a nigga
Fuck holes in my chest, took my last breath
I, squeeze my Mag and I'm taggin him to his death ridah
Surpise the whole block when we slide up
An expedition in business, holdin them 9's up
First to die be the first nigga that speak
Murdered to death in the Killafornia streets
I live my life behind a pistol, smash for the cash
Bitch, life is too short that's why we murdered your ass
Give a shout to y'all homies, gave your pussy to a thug nigga
And all the cops they gave their money to the drug dealers
Dump slugs on all y'all piggies, that club nigga
And big dicks is why you white bitches love niggas
A black warrior, finger on the fuckin trigger
Before I die bet they realise I'm a real nigga

[Chorus: C-Bo]

It ain't no clowin this trick, real niggas'll load clips
Pushin luxury cars, when we dip
It's all about stackin them chips, makin that long money flip
And haters that trip a click to catch clips, for real niggas
[repeat]

[Verse Two: Mob Figgas]

Bailin times, fuck it, Mob Figgas'll get the bustin
Ain't no exit out the dip, stuck is how I'm livin
Driven to be that male factor
It's like I have ???? a boot cha or do ya out the frame, and loot the cash
Rush ya, bust ya, with fo'-fifths and extra clips
Entrepeneur, check my profile, that Mob nigga now
Pushin weight to my Eastend loc, he called me *?craze is grey?*
Like Tony but never phony, that bitch ???? ????

I'm bringin it to em like this, Mob Figgas, real niggas down to kill niggas
Five niggas, live niggas, lick and do or die, nigga
Nine's nigga's time's tickin when I blow your mind, nigga
Call me AP-9, nigga, boogie's when we rhyme, nigga
I hit the block and have it sold
See my freakers hittin vicious on them po's, that's the way the game goes
On tre-low, I stay low, dippin crate loads
Never had my niggas leavin nappy, runnin big blocks and cavi

[Chorus]

[Verse Three: Mob Figgas]

It's the hustler, you figure out I pack the biggest strap
Boy, I get savage, fold some cabbage, paper chasin is effect
Real niggas lost the fake, and a war that's takin place
You might get chopped up by the gauge, you ain't the kind that can't relate
Walk and trip into my car, stompin a chop off in my drawers
It's the hustler verse em all, so I blast if it's called fo'
Your detective ass wears raw do', real niggas keepin it inside do'
While real niggas is ridin, that's how we flex when we despise

The Mob Figgas, I grew up with these niggas
Trust my life for real niggas, ??? be the first to blast
so I don't have no fear, when I'm out here
But life still be makin me sick
Had to feel the Gleec kick and see heat rip flesh from the unfortunate
Allah bless your soul
I know I was wrong but he crossed the real
so I prayed that you will have understandin and feel
my story, when it's time to wrestle niggas to respect

Real niggas out to get, out to get it on
Screamin "Fuck em all" wit my back against the wall
They can't hold me back, I be the first to dump
on the worthless filth punk as he jump, felts kick from the pump
When my nuts was young, we see they hung to the floor
And when they severs 2-11's like teflon dyin out the door
What they know? We Mob Figgas, born in them savage times
Fuck your average ass rhymes, nigga

[Chorus]

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