paroles de chanson He's Not Real (feat. Prospect & Remy) - Fat Joe , Remy , Prospect

Uh! bringin it back to the bx!
Wit my nigga fat joe, long side my nigga prospect
Holdin the bx down
Bronx burrough... terror sqaud

Yo, everybody talkin gats, really don't pack em
98% of these rapper's is all actor's
Stay frontin, like you wild and'll spray somethin
Come to find out, you ain't never slanged nothin
Think it's the game, gon lose the sport
I seen dude's get bruised through fort
Then choose the court, a new's report
They just pursed the court
If you even think of bustin, they ass'll sooth your thoughts
A damn shame, I'm from the streets where it's fair game
Nigga's will ift you off your feet wit the can-yan
Three in the chest and one in the part
For disrespect you, get left right in front of ya moms
Joe is the don, you clean, then show me your arm's
For these track's, i'ma fiend like a soldier in 'nam
Only the bronx will blow your ass outta ya lugz
Fuck love, here we believe in nothin but slugs

Always you see him in the club frontin wit the ice grill...
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real
Actin like he got a money, cause he never hold steel...
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real
Always see him wit bodyguards around like he kill
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real
So if the feds after indictment's, we know he gon squeal...
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real

Yo, I squeeze of gats and spit facts when I breath on tracks
Got that hot shit, that make you ease on back
I'll make you leave the game like ma$e, and get ya name erased
Walk threw from place to place, and change the chase
I'm givin him terror, for the new millenium era
Automatic semi's wit the fully clip and the leather
Poppin champagne like we celebrating whatever
Versatile, walking threw the aisle, hurtin the crowd
Even got the God in the cloud, observing this style
He love the way I do this, leavin nigga's clueless
It's prospect, it's off wit ya head, you should've knew this
My twin????, cock and squeeze, we stoppin g's
You better follow up, these nigga's can't rock wit these
Straight up, I speak life threw the mic though
Sprayin the town, and layin it down like whoa!

Always see him in the club, frontin wit the ice grill...
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real
Actin like he got a honey, cause he never hold steel...
Be like, he's alright, but he's not real
Always see him wit bodyguards around like he kill
He's alright, but he's not real
So if the feds after indictment, you know he gon sqeaul...
Be like, she's alright, but she's not real

Yo, ayo I'm lookin for the perfect mami to ride wit me
Only wear she like to rock is 560
Swear to her mom's if it's on, she'll die wit me
Puff blunts, like to get high just like whitney
Thug type, "set it off", like jada
And this chick go both ways, don't hate her
Back in the block, they use to try to play her
Till the don out her to the qualities much greater
Net worth, put the tool in the skirt
Which you fools know about gettin head in re
About, clockin grips, and coppin whips
You muthafucker's stay frontin, stop poppin shit
Let's not forget, who be gettin robbed wit the choker
Man, I'm still rockin my same chains from "flow joe"
And you know joe stay wit tha mack
You hatin the fact, you can't do nathan to crack
Ya heard!!!

* To prodigy's "keep it thoro"*

"Oh y'all nigga's killa's now? "