Return Of The Real Lyrics

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
I don't look for trouble, trouble finds me,
I be chilling with the grillin right beside me,
Wisely he put his f**king eyes back in place,
I don't need a case to come out a one year ace,
You should see my face, niggas feed you BS,
Bitches feed me grapes,
I feed off negativity it's easy bait,
All my niggas need a plate and those that don't even
Those that don't believe in fate,
Suffer from denial,
It's funny how I succeed,
I be f**king up a while,
How they were getting their shot
While I was stuck under the bowel,
Drove 100 valve makes me smile
My lifestyle style make it rain on the crowd,
A black cloud, I make a movie nigga,
Act wild, Stephen King em, bring em,
With the flowers beds and niggas singing,
I'm swinging and my medallions a hundred thousand,
They crowd em in public housing cause I grew up round

What up nigga,

It's the return of the real,
This ain't real,
The game,
Ain't nothing changed
Except the change and these niggas looking strange,
The return of the real,
Off the brain smelling like Mary Jane,
And my chain I'm as raw as cocaine,
It's the return of the real
Don't complain, up your game, maintain,
Keep it still shit is real in the field,
The return of the real and I return
To whom it may concern,
These niggas don't learn,
They being burnt, burnt,

[Verse 2:]
Crispy like a nigga down in Memphis,
We kicking down fences
Clearing out the entrance,
You could be my apprentice or get sent to the dentist,
Right off the benches shine every sentence,
In my attendance take off them fake pendants,
Them cubics and them ocs I do this like the ogs,
I'm realer than a death threat,
25 to life debt, they ain't cut off my lights yet,
Man I ain't breaking light sweat,
Getting diamond bright neck,
Forget it I do not change,
I put it on a nice check you already know my price
Bet it all on a dice game,
6.45 and I've been giving back to the hood,
Rap robbin nuttin,
To that g shit you don't want it with me shit,
That wood for wood million would give it to you for
free shit,
What you blow up your weed with,
Get high speed shit with, as long as I got the gift I
don't need shit.


[Verse 3:]
Box cutter cuttings bring Buck in,
These niggas duckin all over nothin,
Cause nothin is enough to get turned into dust,
Chrome burners you thrust,
Cause ain't no sympathy in this game for you and us,
Plus niggas throwin dirt on your name,
Who could you trust who could you call,
God forbid you take another fall,
All we got round here is crack, hip hop and ball,
Kids ain't kids, kids got clips cocked an all,
I'm a ball whether big or small,
Hood coach I call the shots,
I just stand out cause a nigga tall,
No holds barred with the God,
I'm show five the hoes jog,
To the knob for a throat job,
They want that gutter back,
No prob, I slick... of oil [?]
They know I go hard,
About as hard as it is to stay out them cuffs, me,
Niggas AK out this truck,


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