Real Estate
Cypress Hill Lyrics


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Yo it's time to hurt her, sorta like murder
A duck with the public's favorite rhyme order
I ain't no waiter or hater of a spectator (Kill 'em B-Real)
Seekin' to find the toys, with no flavor
See I'm talkin' about those whose vocals ain't coming off
A skill to kill at will, but awfully dumb of course
Some go nut, the power of the last one
Slower, flower, blower
Those who ain't pros I wet my stupid radio
'Cause he needs a G when you listen to the vocal
I'm not a loco but I'm lookin' just 'til punk go ohh
Now you can't see I'm real great?
Check out the story to the glory of the real estate

All these motherfuckers that want to run up on the Hill
(Step off!) You know why?
This shit is all about boo-yaa ('Cause I said step off!)

This is the crime you find you're not an exponent
Doggone it, another gonna mierda on it
Now you're wishing, fishing you could do this
But on the strength, yo, I think you knew this
Was just like a dream, where you're supreme, the king
Of a minor league team, bro
Off of 47, swung a load of eleven
Got hit with a pitch like a bitch and went to heaven
Weak ducks, ducking and bucking
Saying fuck it, ain't worth damn pay the ducats
From my public, my favorite subject, I loves it
So go 'head, talk your punk shit
Suckers, you're nothing, frontin' like a cock chocker
Crack smoker, can we adjust we choker
Oh, now you can't see I'm real great?
Check out the story to the glory of the real estate

Another soft pussy motherfucker
Another fly verse
Straight from the deficit
Another scripture of B-Real
Yeah, get funky, Real
This is the Lower Eastside of things
You know what I'm saying? Cypress Hill

You ain't flamboyant, a toy boy on it
Ain't paid a plot, for un-em-be-ployment
I won't 'cause yo I got a lot of what I gotcha
Plus I taught ya, the beat on the top of
Everything you know, still you can't do no
Damage or duel though hey yo, 'cause I'm uno
The Real is the b-est, sport and you can see this
G-ness dialogue, of the real skiers
I ain't nothing like a joke, get stoned, get smoked
And choke off, the hypes I cook off
The dialectic, funk-elistic
Chew slower or become another statistic
Oh, now you can't see I'm real great?
Check out the story to the glory of the real estate

Yo I told you to keep down brother
The motherfuckers just don't learn nothing G
Wake up Hill
They gotta keep going to school
So they keep going out
'Cause they're just not Real
Yeah that's right fool

Test the master pass, kick your ass
And feel combustion, for the dope blast
'Cause you're stepping on my property, get off it G
Get caught up, then you get shot up
See, violators will be prosecuted
By the reputed, undisputed, Cypress unit
Not so, no there's no sellout
You ain't got enough ducats to shell out
Well I'm in front, and yo I feel great
Check out the story to the glory of the real estate

Yeah, roaches come in but they don't come out G




Don't come on the Hill
That's right

Overall Meaning

The song Real Estate by Cypress Hill has a raw, gritty feel with its aggressive delivery, pounding beats, and lyrics that take aim at those who lack the authenticity and skill to be real in the rap game. The first verse focuses on those whose rhymes are bland and unoriginal, lacking any flavor, while the chorus warns any wannabes that try to step up to the Hill to back off, as they will not be able to handle their realness.


B-Real's verse continues to put down fake rappers, using clever wordplay and aggressive rhymes to prove his greatness. He boasts about his skills and puts down those who try to talk tough but cannot deliver, using violent imagery to show his dominance over any potential rivals. The song ends with a warning to anyone who would try to challenge Cypress Hill on their own turf, promoting the idea that they are the real deal when it comes to rap.


Line by Line Meaning

Yo it's time to hurt her, sorta like murder
It's time to take action, like committing murder


A duck with the public's favorite rhyme order
Someone who lacks real talent and is only popular because of their gimmick


I ain't no waiter or hater of a spectator (Kill 'em B-Real)
I'm not someone who watches from the sidelines and criticizes, I take action and get things done


Seekin' to find the toys, with no flavor
Looking for the people who lack skill and originality


See I'm talkin' about those whose vocals ain't coming off
I'm talking about the people whose lyrics and delivery are not working


A skill to kill at will, but awfully dumb of course
They have the ability to make good music, but for some reason they can't


Some go nut, the power of the last one
Some people go crazy for the one in power


Slower, flower, blower
They are getting high and taking it slow


Those who ain't pros I wet my stupid radio
The people who aren't professionals annoy me and I don't want to hear them on the radio


'Cause he needs a G when you listen to the vocal
Because you need to have some street knowledge to understand what is being said


I'm not a loco but I'm lookin' just 'til punk go ohh
I'm not crazy, but I'm waiting for someone to mess up so I can call them out on it


Now you can't see I'm real great?
Don't you see that I'm talented and successful?


Check out the story to the glory of the real estate
Take a look at my success story and how I made it big


All these motherfuckers that want to run up on the Hill
All these people trying to compete with me and take me down


(Step off!) You know why?
Back off because you're not a real threat


This shit is all about boo-yaa ('Cause I said step off!)
This is all about aggression and being the best


This is the crime you find you're not an exponent
If you can't keep up with me, you're committing a crime against yourself


Doggone it, another gonna mierda on it
Damn, another person trying to mess things up


Now you're wishing, fishing you could do this
Now you want to be like me and do what I'm doing


But on the strength, yo, I think you knew this
I think you already knew that you couldn't do what I'm doing


Was just like a dream, where you're supreme, the king
It's like a dream where you're the best, but in reality it's not true


Of a minor league team, bro
You're only the best in a small group, not in the big leagues


Off of 47, swung a load of eleven
They hit the ball and scored 11 runs off of pitch number 47


Got hit with a pitch like a bitch and went to heaven
They got hit with a pitch and it was a weak hit, resulting in an easy catch


Weak ducks, ducking and bucking
Weak people, avoiding confrontation


Saying fuck it, ain't worth damn pay the ducats
They give up and don't want to put in the effort


From my public, my favorite subject, I loves it
I love pleasing my fans, it's my favorite thing to do


So go 'head, talk your punk shit
I challenge you to talk trash and see what happens


Suckers, you're nothing, frontin' like a cock chocker
You are nothing and pretending to be something you're not


Crack smoker, can we adjust we choker
You are a drug addict and need to quit before it kills you


Another soft pussy motherfucker
Another weak person who can't handle things


Another fly verse
Another great verse of music


Straight from the deficit
Coming from a negative situation


Another scripture of B-Real
Another great piece of music from B-Real


Yeah, get funky, Real
Let's get the party started, B-Real


This is the Lower Eastside of things
This is where real talent comes from


You ain't flamboyant, a toy boy on it
You're not flashy or talented, just trying to fit in


Ain't paid a plot, for un-em-be-ployment
You're not contributing to society or yourself, just wasting time


I won't 'cause yo I got a lot of what I gotcha
I won't do what you're doing because I have plenty of real talent


Plus I taught ya, the beat on the top of
I taught you how to create the best beats


Everything you know, still you can't do no
Even with all that knowledge, you still can't create great music


Damage or duel though hey yo, 'cause I'm uno
You can't compete with me because I'm the one and only


The Real is the b-est, sport and you can see this
My talent is the best and it shows in everything I do


G-ness dialogue, of the real skiers
The real musicians know how to speak and what to say to each other


I ain't nothing like a joke, get stoned, get smoked
I'm not someone to mess around with or underestimate


And choke off, the hypes I cook off
I shut down all the over-hyped music and focus on the real stuff


The dialectic, funk-elistic
The true, original sound of funk music


Chew slower or become another statistic
Slow down and take your time or you will become just another failed musician


Test the master pass, kick your ass
Try to keep up with me and I will beat you


And feel combustion, for the dope blast
The music is so good it's like an explosion


'Cause you're stepping on my property, get off it G
You're trying to compete with me on my own turf, back off


Get caught up, then you get shot up
If you try to mess with me, you will get destroyed


See, violators will be prosecuted
I won't hesitate to go after those who try to compete with me and fail


By the reputed, undisputed, Cypress unit
I have a reputation for being the best and my music speaks for itself


Not so, no there's no sellout
I never compromise my values or talent for money


You ain't got enough ducats to shell out
You don't have enough money to pay for my services


Well I'm in front, and yo I feel great
I'm the best and it feels amazing


Check out the story to the glory of the real estate
Take a look at my success story and how I made it big


Yeah, roaches come in but they don't come out G
I'm like a roach motel, musicians come to me but they can't leave without gaining real talent


Don't come on the Hill
Don't try to compete with me, you'll never win


That's right
I'm always right




Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE, ULPIANO SERGIO REYES

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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