Real sh*t lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, I'm f*ckin' with this sh*t right here, this straight
Y'all already know what it is, this lil Kodak, man f*ck you f*ck you kodak the mf sh*t i ate angel pus*y in this b*tch

[Hook]
This that real sh*t, for whatever sh*t you goin' through
I check your resume, before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then n*gga, I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy, so don't think that b*tch belong to you
She's a ill b*tch, f*ckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me, so why you think that all she want is you?

[Verse 1]
I was in that Yoda, sellin' Yoda on the move
Deliverin', I'm takin' orders, I ain't sellin' food
Book bag full of paper, but I never go to school
I use to tote that ball, now I just keep totin' tools
Yee ain't got no street cred, you ain't even got no bread
You be pillow talkin', boy, she told me everything you said
I be anywhere, go everywhere, just pull up on yo set
Pull up Panamare, flyers everywhere, oh, they dead
And I'm fresh to death, flyers everywhere, I kill em' dead
I won't fight you bout no b*tch, but I gon' fight for my respect
I just post a picture, now she wanna get all in my chest
And the waiter beep keep knockin', I can't stop bopin' my head
Damn, I hate when you be stoppin', girl just keep droppin' that neck
I'mma hit you with this pistol, if you do that sh*t again
I love this sh*t, for real, and it ain't all about the bread
But I see I'm worth it, so now I be all about a check
They buy my sh*t on iTunes, but it free ride on the web
Cuz I drop that sh*t, you want to, you just pop it in, and play it
I don't wear that Invicta no more, I rock Audemars Piguet
Not a killer, but don't push me, cuz I'm too close to the edge
[Hook]
This that real sh*t, for whatever sh*t you goin' through
I check your resume, before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then n*gga, I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy, so don't think that b*tch belong to you
She's a ill b*tch, f*ckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me, so why you think that all she want is you?
You don't feel this? Then n*gga, I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy, so don't think that b*tch belong to you

[Verse 2]
Road runner, bill, I'm on the turn pipe, just flowin' through
Pourin' out the seal, I'm poured a whole pint, pourin' a deuce
Only real relate, but you won't relate, even if you fake
I was hungry, cuz my daddy never stepped up to the plate
I'm a snapper, I'm a trapper, I'm a chapter, I'm a rapper
Nuttin' personal, but if you want a verse, then I'mma tax you
I just asked around town about ya, they said you a actor
We can't do no song, f*ck the money, that don't even matter

[Hook]
This that real sh*t, for whatever sh*t you goin' through
I check your resume, before I do a song wit you
You don't feel this? Then n*gga, I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy, so don't think that b*tch belong to you
She's a ill b*tch, f*ckin' me and all my homies too
She be on me, so why you think that all she want is you?
You don't feel this? Then n*gga, I don't what's wrong wit you
You ain't her daddy, so don't think that b*tch belong to you