Be True 2 It Lyrics - Singles - Rasaq

(*talking*) 

Ghetto Status mayn, yeah 

Koopa, know I'm talking bout 

An underground soldier baby 

Military mayn, hey 

[Chamillionaire] 

230 thousand dollas not a lot to Rasaq, get out your clock 

And time how long it take em, to finish building my spot 

I'm the hottest the South has got, if you think Chamillion is not 

Swallow the key and throw it out, and just make sure your mouth is locked 

Some look up to Pac, and some look up to The Rock 

But short is something I'm not, so I don't look up a lot 

You wearing a Jacob watch, and fronting like they were rocks 

When the Mix Tap Messiah drops, that B-S is finna stop 

I'm not gon knock a nigga, for trying to look like he doing it 

Be true to it, if you say you doing it and ain't doing it 

Then you will get exposed, you know that I'm gonna ruin it 

It's foolishness, sip your Hypnotic I hope you cool with it 

I'ma expose your cheap, thirty dolla bottle ass niggaz 

No brain in your head, cause your head hollow ass niggaz 

All you watching TV, I wanna date a model ass niggaz 

I wanna go buy a more expensive bottle, than Jigga's ass niggaz 

Yep, the tool is kept 

But we can take off the gloves, and we can do to death 

Don't get it mixed up, my chips up I'm glued to checks 

Don't get it switched up with the chicks, cause I'm smooth as Heff 

Yep and it ain't nothing better, than money and hoes 

Ok I lied about one of those, and one of em's hoes 

Two different types of green, yep then one of em grows 

Ok both of em grow, but for me it's money from shows, yep 

It's the King, Koopa 

Hey, hey, hey 

[Lew Hawk] 

I need a six foot dime, that's gon ride for me 

The type of broad if it's heat, she gon lie for me 

Stash cake for me, when it's HPD 

On my trail trying to see, how the crew get down 

22's on the Coupe, that's how the crew get down 

Uptown, that's where them niggaz play with K's and tech's 

And dump your body in them streets, if it's disrespect 

Different sets on channel six, keep these hoochies wet 

Different sets of hollow tips, keep these niggaz in check 

I make checks from killa flows, that I spit on tour 

Coming straight from the heart, from the pain I endure 

Locked up in a cage, with no sun for days 

Better play them street smart, and try to duck dark days 

They say, that sixty grams'll get you two for six 

The sixty grams in my clip, can get your wrist on lit 

Bracelets with them karats, sparkling nice 

Looking like you stuck your fist, in a block of ice 

But take advice from a hustla, the cops is sick 

I pop a snitch, it's niggaz on the block that snitch 

I'm trying to get rich, by shaking all that white in the mix 

I stay in the mix hitting licks, cause my grinding to fix 

Better fix your frame without, when you speaking on us 

It's the triple C Click, and they can't fuck with us 

Uh, Lew Hawk, uh 

[Rasaq] 

It's the young Hooligan, who could fool with him 

I kill beats on they two, like this is a pen 

Don't make me click-clack, and reload again 

Leave your ears are opening, the size of rolling rims 

Mouth full of ammo, the black Rambo 

Do they want me to spit for em, Cham (man, no) 

And your man know, I can go off like a bomb in a land so 

Watch where you stand, oh 

Judging how the hand glow, if I let the hand slow 

The sun will pack in gold, they know 

Matter of fact, the flow is so damn hot 

I gotta come out the throwback, Ast-ro 

Chickens happen to know, how we rap at the show 

That's why they the first to come, and the last to go 

She the first to come, you the last to know 

Can I get her ass to go, nigga