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Some Real Ones Video (MV)




Performed By: Tay G
Length: 2:30
Written by: Thomas Jenkins




Tay G - Some Real Ones Lyrics
Official




Pass the peas like they used to do, had the keys in the Subaru
Magazine full of hollow points, bullet hole like a hula hoop
Boys in the hood, no Cuba Jr. just Hoover Grooving all through the school
Ape nigga like Zoboomafoo, straight killer like whoopty whoop
Made nigga, just fade niggas, I sprayed niggas like mousse and you
Just lame nigga, I swang nigga, leave you breathing them hooptie fumes
Got paid nigga, cocaine dealer, on top your house like Snoopy fool
I weather droughts, I'll wet his house, I'll set it off like Boosie Boos
They let me out it's like he was a cougar, set free from a zoo cause
I was running the streets looking for something to eat, Tay G is a ruler
Three to medulla, now you lay stiff in the street in a pool of
Blood nigga, but I'm Cuz CRIPin, I don't love bitches
Sold dope cause I needed the mula, in the street with the Ruger
Smoking weed in the Uber, hope they don't finger the shooter
Cause it's me, I did it, admit it, I splitted his wig
It was in the intent of some criminal shit
If he still moving, I hit him again
Militant with it I thickened my skin
Can't nobody touch how I scribble the pen
You figured it out, I figured it in
I'm probably the realest to live
I got some homies that's still in the pen
Won't see they momma and chil'n again
But you say that you a gangster
You silly as shit
I know some real ones
And all them niggas stay strapped
We stacking a million
I know you heard him say that
I hop out the coupe, I got the roof
Way back
I got the proof, I got the juice
Straight facts
F*ck em, I get it more than you had thought
Count up my Benjamins then I cash out
Hop in the rental and then I smash off
On the road to the riches I took the fast route
Covered in money homie, this eight grand
I don't talk to these niggas and we don't shake hands
I bounce on these bitches until they can't stand
In the club on the wall pimpin' I can't dance
I know some real ones
And all them niggas stay strapped
We stacking a million
I know you heard him say that
I hop out the coupe, I got the roof
Way back
I got the proof, I got the juice
Straight facts
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Pass the peas like they used to do, had the keys in the Subaru
Magazine full of hollow points, bullet hole like a hula hoop
Boys in the hood, no Cuba Jr. just Hoover Grooving all through the school
Ape nigga like Zoboomafoo, straight killer like whoopty whoop
Made nigga, just fade niggas, I sprayed niggas like mousse and you
Just lame nigga, I swang nigga, leave you breathing them hooptie fumes
Got paid nigga, cocaine dealer, on top your house like Snoopy fool
I weather droughts, I'll wet his house, I'll set it off like Boosie Boos
They let me out it's like he was a cougar, set free from a zoo cause
I was running the streets looking for something to eat, Tay G is a ruler
Three to medulla, now you lay stiff in the street in a pool of
Blood nigga, but I'm Cuz CRIPin, I don't love bitches
Sold dope cause I needed the mula, in the street with the Ruger
Smoking weed in the Uber, hope they don't finger the shooter
Cause it's me, I did it, admit it, I splitted his wig
It was in the intent of some criminal shit
If he still moving, I hit him again
Militant with it I thickened my skin
Can't nobody touch how I scribble the pen
You figured it out, I figured it in
I'm probably the realest to live
I got some homies that's still in the pen
Won't see they momma and chil'n again
But you say that you a gangster
You silly as shit
I know some real ones
And all them niggas stay strapped
We stacking a million
I know you heard him say that
I hop out the coupe, I got the roof
Way back
I got the proof, I got the juice
Straight facts
F*ck em, I get it more than you had thought
Count up my Benjamins then I cash out
Hop in the rental and then I smash off
On the road to the riches I took the fast route
Covered in money homie, this eight grand
I don't talk to these niggas and we don't shake hands
I bounce on these bitches until they can't stand
In the club on the wall pimpin' I can't dance
I know some real ones
And all them niggas stay strapped
We stacking a million
I know you heard him say that
I hop out the coupe, I got the roof
Way back
I got the proof, I got the juice
Straight facts
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Thomas Jenkins
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Tay G

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