If It Ain't Real

(专辑： The Rompalation - 1996)

[Messy Marv:]
Feds and the ATF, they try to clown
'Cause we connected Fillmore with the 3C's down
Nigga, I gets around
Mac Dre, you know these niggas'll love to playa hate
But watch the Glock bounce, rock and skate
Through they cranium and travel to they mid-brain
More murder, more cocaine
That's the theme, came thicker than Gold Medal flour
Y'all got the game mixed up, it's the money then the power
And these good-for-nothing bitches come along with the riches
And on your safe, that hoe is plotting for the digits
Y'all got it twisted, like Mac Mall, get some Get Right
And dump on that hoe, 45 Calico infrared light
The game ain't right, a Fillmore nigga stick to the script
Never trust a bitch with your sack, a cuddie around your scat
And sees this cat, from the F-I-double-L-M-O-iggidy
To the 7-0-Siggidy, Seff tha Gaffla, San Quinn and young Miggidy
You niggas ain't feeling me, my nigga Coolio put me in the giggidy
From the SF-siggidy, to the V, if it ain't real it ain't riggidy

[Coolio Da'Unda'Dogg:]
Well it's the Unda'Dogg, with the shit that'll make you wonder, dog
How in the fuck he spit like this, well make way, 'cause here comes a hog
See ain't no slacking up in my stacking, steadily macking
And I'm getting my propers on for making you up a proper song
And nevertheless, I'm smoking my zest and drinking up on that Tanqueray
Or separators, that Kahlua, milk and E&J
So what they say, they know who's keeping it real, nigga
From the L.A. to the Bay, from the Crestside to the Fill', nigga
Messy Marv, Seff tha Gaffla and San Quinn done did it
Hooked up with Mac Dre and Coolio, bustas can't get with it
Come in on this mic, I spit it on this mic, I shitted on this mic
And keeping it tight, if it ain't real it ain't right

[Seff the Gaffla:]
Man, I came way across the Bay to do this shit with Mac Dre
Fillmore, Califor-ni-a, the place the Gaffla stay
Many dues I had to pay, several cats I had to slay
Turned out a few shows, got sprayed with the pepper spray
Everything is OK, my lifestyle brings me riches
Me and Mess in a Lex, while the Quinn pops the bitches
My cousin Kelly on the phone with Julio
Damn, who made this beat? It's my nigga Coolio
So do your duty, hoe; respect a nigga to the fullest
Every time we walk through, all you wanna do is pull us
So what you think? Do you bitches have some time?
Better yet, do you hoes have a dime?
Being broke is a grind, that's why we all coming tight
Bitches keep your shit tight; if it ain't real it ain't right

[Naked:]
It's your Crestside potna in this bitch off the heezy
Doing what I do, staying true to the 3C's
Which is we evaded D's, making G's, taking these
Living experiences, such as shaking ki's
Breaking these bitches in a vicious fashion
The name is Naked, respect it or get a lashing
I'm back and forth from the studio to the dope track
So when I grab the mic, why should I hold back?
I sold crack, way before they called it yay
Done been to prison, now I'm back with my boy Mac Dre
Stacking pay as I say my say and do my dues
An actual factual muthafucka, I thought you knew

[San Quinn:]
It never stop, it never quit, so represent my residence
To the highest, we the flyest muthafuckas since United
Not divided but unified, retaliate to the murder, I
Hope they let kill it when I be feeling what's inside my ass
Quick to blast, slow to speak, we can grip or chunk 'em
Heated discussions always lead to something that might be dumping
Pumping raw 'caine to the veins without a flaw
I answer y'all so profane how I came to your fucking jaw
Haters can't get around me, I sport that sucka repellent
From a mile away, I spot a sucka smelling like he jealous
Well of us goodfellas, we only goodfellas
The hotelers will forever be drug sellers and dank smokers
Too ferocious to approach in the wrong fashion
We mashing, assassins, a silence with violence
Is life, bitches get macked, riches get stacked
Since I'm on the track, I say the true facts
From the Bay to Montego, serving this game to my people
That's lethal, you know how we do, nigga

[Juggy:]
On your marks, get set, you suckas better get ready
I'm stepping out your dreams like a nigga named Freddy
Krueger, the name rhymes with 9-millimeter Luger
And fucking with mine, punk nigga, I'll do ya
3C's down is where I chill at, get my scrill at
Stay real at, and every day I get scratch
It's like an itch, and I'm addicted
So Lord could you please help me get this
Monkey off my back before I gets my gat
Put it to your dome, and dare you to talk back
Ain't no slacking on my pimping, bitch, don't put up a fight
A nigga gots to come tight, if it ain't real it ain't right

[Mac Dre:]
It's the Mac named Dre from the C-R-E-S-T
Getting dough with my folks from the 'Moe, young Messy
Marv and we starving for more dollars
So we pimps a bitch and get hoe dollars
See, I love to floss but keep it real though
Dropping sauce with boss playas from Fillmore
Now pay close attention as I put this script down
And rap about these suckas and these bitches they kick down
I'm Mac Dre, and I'm hooked with the Romp crew
And getting' filthy rich off a bitch is what Romp do
Playa haters hate to see a young brotha riding
From the other side, you hear 'run, brotha, hide'
'Cause I be serving muthafuckas with this Double-R press game
A goddamn savage coming straight out the Crest, mayne
3C soldier Double-R for life
And if it ain't real, cuddie, you know it ain't right