"Return Of The Real" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

LLOYD BANKS

"Return Of The Real"

I don't look for trouble, trouble finds me
I be chilling with the grilling right beside me
Wisely he put his fucking 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 its easy bait
All my niggas need a plate and those that don't even hate
Those that don't believe in fate
Suffer from denial
Its funny how I succeed
I be fucking 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 'em
What up nigga?

[Chorus:]
Its 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
Its 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

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 OC's I do this like the OG's
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 range
Bet it all on a dice game
6.45 and I've been giving back to the hood
Rap robbing nutting
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

Box cutter cuttings bring Buck in
These niggas ducking all over nothing
'Cause nothing 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 throwing 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'ma 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 [?] 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