(Print the Lyrics)

[Chorus]

Keeping this real
Oh baby, keeping its real
Oh baby, keeping its real
Oh baby, keeping its real
Keeping its real

[Brotha Lynch Hung]

I put you up nigga, don't trip
You did your work for that mark and he left you in the dark
Skydiving in a bulletproof parachute
No remorse left you hanging, easy aiming lockdown
Shoot, the clock sounds two
One minute till I'm in it got a business
Fill they ass to death and get my scrilla in the corner none left
Shots out to my nigga in the penn getting switch
That whack bitch tried to stop a nigga from getting rich
You can dig a ditch but you won't find shit
Left you in flames, kept you roach, you can smell the shit when I
approach
I be off that stanky sack of indonesia
It's an evidential, I leave you hungry eat your cheesa
Heard you was sweet like an almond joy
And I know you heard of me cause I'm a west coast bad boy
And I'm a sick nigga, sick made (made)
It gets real as I pull the pin out this grenade (nade)
Body parts like the movie old school oozie
Rip your arms out from the elbows nigga I smell those green leaves
Those sick thieves, a twenty sack of green weed
Is all I need, I make you bleed, I take your green
I know you got it from the ice cream man
Before you make that transaction I need to cash in my hand (god damn)
And if you don't we can do the murder man dance
Under any circumstance I'm a have your pans

[Chorus]

[Master P]

Brotha Lynch, I'm a make you a deal you can't refuse
My phone tapped the new code for hafts and hoes
Is t-shirts and tennis shoes from the yay I got the sneaker