Lyrics The Realist Killaz - 2Pac , 50 Cent

Yo, Red Spyda (ooh-wee) is that 50 Cent/Pac joint ready?
{Gun cocking} Let me know, holla {Gunshot}

There's gon' be some stuff you gon' see
That's gon' make it hard to smile in the future

Yeah nigga! Haha
Let's go nigga, this is what it is
2Pac cut his head bald
Then you wanna cut yo' head bald (You pussy nigga!)
2Pac wear a bandanna
You wan' wear a bandanna
(What do we have here now?)
2Pac put a cross on his back
You wanna put crosses on yo' back
Nigga you ain't 2Pac - This 2Pac!

Is it, money or women to funny beginnings, tragic endings
I can make a million and STILL not get enough of spending
And since my life is based on sinning, I'm hell-bound
Rather be buried than be worried, living held down
My game plan to be trained
Military mind of a thug lord, sittin' in the cemetery cryin'
I've been lost since my adolescence, calling to Jesus
Balling as a youngster, Wondering if he sees us
Young black male, crack sales got me three strikes
Living in jail, this is hell, enemies die
Wonder when we all pass is anybody listening?
Got my, hands on my semi-shotty, everybody's listenin'
Please God can you understand me, bless my family
Guide us all, before we fall into insanity
I make it a point, to make my peep bumpin' warlike
Drop some shit, to have these stupid bitches jaws tight

'Till Makaveli returns, it's "All Eyez On Me"
(What do we have here NOW?)
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
You should've listened, I told you not to fuck with me
(What do we have here NOW?)
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see

Now since you're crying for mercy I promise
My success'll be the death of you
Lo and behold you sold your soul
Nigga there's nothin' left of you
Look in the mirror, ask yourself who are you?
If you don't know who you are, how could your dreams come true?
Motherfucker, I sat back and watched
You pretended to be 'Pac, you pretended to be hot
But you're not (now) - I see it so clear
You can't take the pressure, you pussy
I warned you not to push me
You see me and chills run up your spine
God made men the same boy, but your heart ain't like mine
Press, they look at me like I'm a menace
I was playing with guns
While your momma had your punk-ass playing tennis
I'm a nightmare, you see me when you dream
Wake up, turn on your TV and see my ass again
You cowardly-hearted, you couldn't make it on your own
Fuck The Source, I'm on cover of Rolling Stone
Hahahaha
(You pussy!)