Real Shit Lyrics

* send corrections to the typist

Camoflauge: Goddamn!

It's that real shit, Huh?
That real shit, What?
That real shit, And you can tell?
Cause flies all around it
It's that real shit, What?
That real shit, Huh?
That real shit, And you can tell?
Cause flies all around it

Man its that real shit (Smell that!)
I bet you won't (inhale that!)
Too long cause its strong like some weed outta ?
Y'all niggaz know what it is
Boy ain't yo mamma told you bout playin with them project kids!
But you don't listen, now yo ass missin
For runnin yo f**kin mouth, and knowin you ain't no competition
I glisnin like diamonds, they rippin up shit when I'm rhyming,
Just like the sun I'm shinin, top of the charts is where I'm climbin
A red light means STOP! I run that shit!
Got niggaz fiendin for some good dope
Gotta come back and get! Another hit of that bomb ass music
Shit don't love the way I do it!

[Hook: 2x]

I'm ragin, cause niggaz hatin, cause we makin,
Mail out the ass better ask somebody I'm blazin
Hot like fire nigga , you don't wanna try this nigga!
Picture me rollin like 4 rims and 4 tires nigga!
I'm bad like Michael… Jackson, Jordan, your pick
But any way you look at it I'm still the shit!
My click bringin em' pain! Rapin' the game!
Livin that life! Lovin the fame!
I'm f**kin your dame! She givin up brain!
You kissin that hoe, when she ain't round I bet you missin that hoe
You better listen (bro!) I'm on a mutha f**kin mission (whoa!)
To get rid of my opposition (Oh!) These niggas ain't no competition (No!)
Ain't on my level, and I ain't even 20 yet
Niggas in trouble, I'm blowin up like a balloon
And laughin at these clowns like a 3rd grader watchin cartoons.
(Laughs in the background)

[Hook 2x]

[Verse 3]
It's that real shit, so feel me, like you feelin a stripper,
Ready to tip her, dick bout to bust out your zipper!
You know Camoflauge, the don, sippin perion
Smoking reefer, ridin round getting my fettin on
See these niggas playa hate me, but its all gravy cause
Brought pain to the rap game, just like a 7 in a crap game
Niggas didn't understand what the f**k was happ'ning
Shit went to sellin out the store like a crack house
Drought season! Good dope!
Niggas know I'm the ? Get in the booth and represent
And when I come out nobody go in there for 35 to 45 minutes!

Hook 3x
(talk till fade)

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Songwriter(s): Heiko Maile, Oliver Kreyssig, Marcus Meyn
Publisher(s): Krautclub Music Publ. Heiko Maile, Arabella Musikverlag Gmbh, Cafe Orange Hallo Ed.

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