True Stories lyrics

[Intro: Pimp C]
b*tch!
True story little b*tch
Trademark
Smoke somethin', b*tch!

[Verse 1: Pimp C]

Drop Seven in the pot, hit it with the soda
Now I got what them Cali boys call A-1 Yola
The south is circles and Atlanta is squares
You lyin' 'bout the prices, it ain't seventeen up there
I'm down with Young Buck and Buck down with Pimp C
But ain't nobody got 'em for ten in no damn Tennessee
It might be twenty-seven or it might be twenty three
Dog and Biz use to come and get 'em for sixteen from me
They had two n*ggas that would drive the sh*t back
And they were servin' T, I took his b*tch and his 'Lac
His jewelry and his money and his 5.0
She had a baby from Priest, but that's still my hoe
She was translating Spanish with the Mexican
Tryna get a better price, T got f*cked in the end
She a square now, Dog and Biz both dead
And pus*y n*gga T got locked in the Feds
That was his Ferrari in the in the Juvie video
The b*tch killed Dog cause he was f*ckin' his hoe
Same time, T was f*ckin' Dog wife
Shot him from the back, T a b*tch for life
So if you see me in the streets, b*tch, better keep steppin'
Cause even on parole, I'm ice cold with the weapon
So R.I.P. to Big Dog and his mother
But at least before he died he killed your pus*y ass brother
[Hook]
Aye look, you n*ggas ain't real
You lyin' on your records
You f*ckin' with the trill
So n*gga come check us lil' b*tch
A true story lil' b*tch
True story lil' b*tch
A true story lil' b*tch
Hol' Up!
(X2)

[Verse]
Aye look they call me Young Rayful, I keep that white b*tch
So drop it in a pot, pus*y n*gga get rich
The 'Lac sittin' pretty, all black chrome lid
I keep it occupied by a bad yellow b*tch
She stay out on the stroll tryna get daddy rich
A couple pink booties entered with the b*tch
I done lost everything that I own but my di*k
The music ain't nothin', so I had to push bricks
So I hit the f*ckin' slab for the 16.5
f*ck scorin' at the crib cause that sh*t to high
Bad b*tch, fake titties push 'em home in the ride
Pop a Xanax pill, two cars behind
Aye look my nerves f*cked up I just spent 82.5
If she get pulled over n*gga, then I might as well die
But I'm a make it home n*gga, set that b*tch on fire
For every 36 b*tch I'm making 72
[Hook]
Aye look, you n*ggas ain't real
You lyin' on your records
You f*ckin' with the trill
So n*gga come check us lil' b*tch
A true story lil' b*tch
True story lil' b*tch
A true story lil' b*tch
Hol' Up!
(X2)

[Verse]
They say I'm just like a pimp