It takes talent to make the struggle to succeed seem effortless, but that is the gift that separates artists like Brooklyn's John Jackson, aka Fabolous, from the everyday MC. While most rappers spend more and more time convincing the masses of their "hustle," Fabolous lets his work speak for his effort. With two platinum albums (2001's Ghetto Fabolous and 2003's Street Dreams) and one Gold (2004's Real Talk) to his credit, the veteran hitmaker still exudes a rookie-of-the year swagger. After recording for both Elektra and Atlantic Records, Fab is enjoying a home coming with the legendary Def Jam label. His first recorded song was "If They Want It" from DJ Clue's The Professional, which was released by Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam in 1998.
"I had people in my corner already over there," Fab says of DJ Clue and A&R Skane, the Desert Storm duo who discovered Fabolous. "So it wasn't like I was coming to a new neighborhood."
While he doesn't site any one reason for his move, Fabolous has learned a lot from his time in the industry and is eager to capitalize on his experience. "I haven't peaked yet," he explains. "I was happy with the past records, but I have some adversity to learn off of for the future."
It's appropriate that Fabolous is getting a fresh start for his latest release because he wants From Nothin' to Somethin' to be a rebirth for his fans old and new. "Everybody is trying to take what they have and make something more," says Fabolous, explaining the album's title. "It's a new year, everybody's on their hustle, back in the gym and I'm trying to give them some inspiration. This is music to chase your money too, work out--motivation music.
The first single "Make Me Better" is produced by Grammy Award winning producer Timbaland and finds Fabolous doing what he does best; blending radio ready sound beds with clever and memorable lyrics. Rapping that he needs "a Corretta Scott to make me King" Fab picks up with his female fans where "Baby" left off. "It's a great feel good record, it's got a lot of style to it," he says. "I wanted a record that could show that I could touch different people with my music."
Already recognized for his hit-making ability, Fabolous is eager to show the diversity of his technique while staying true to his blueprint for success. On the cocky "Make Money" he cleverly borrows Notorious B.I.G's trademark chuckle to comment on the laugh-ability of his competition: "these dudes is stand up rappers, hip-hop comedians, I start laughin as soon as I put your CD in." His wit and wordplay is not something he gets enough credit for, but the MC is confident people will come around. "Certain people recognize it," he says, "but its like they'll sing it in the shower, but they won't sing it outside. It's all good though. One of them days you gonna get drunk and start singing that song."
Enlisting a whose-who list of guests that includes Akon, Young Jeezy, Ne-Yo and Junior Reed, Fabolous plays to a variety of audiences on this disc, but there is no mistaking that it's his show from beginning to end. The anthemic "Brooklyn" features a yet to be disclosed surprise guest and "Change Up" pairs Fab with singer, producer extraodinaire Akon helping him reflect on his life and career.
"Anytime you become a successful person, people may look at you and say you changed," explains Fabolous, who references the October 2006 shooting that took place outside of Justin's restaurant in the lyrics of the song. "That record just talks about people changing as a person for money, how they carry themselves and treat other people. For me, I might have changed where I live or my number, but I haven't changed as a person…I slid a line or two about what happened in October but I'm not coming out with a bullet proof vest or anything."
The playful "Foggin Up The Windows," produced by Miami's The Runners, features R. Kelly's chopped and screwed vocals from his hit "Ignition" to prop up Fabolous' ode to parkin' lot pimpin' of the more carnal kind.
"I just took it back to trying to get some in the car," he says with a laugh. "Everyone's either done it or tried to get some in the car. It may not have been the place of choice but everybody's had a hotel on wheels."
Other rewind worthy tracks like "Real Playa" featuring Lloyd, "Diamonds" featuring Young Jeezy and the Just Blaze produced "Back To School" round out an impressive collection that makes From Nothin' to Somethin' worth the two-year wait. In his absence no artist has come close to matching his boyish charm, wit and unassuming cool both on and off the mic. With a new team and a pop of his collar Fabolous is indeed "fresh to Def."
"I'm trying to bring good music back to the game," he says confidently. "And anybody that's bringing good music, the hype is gonna follow them."
Real Talk
Fabolous Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
You better keep your hand on them heats
And live what you sayin' on them beats
Real talk
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
They ain't walkin' the walk, they just talkin' the talk
Some people look at me as the real talk of New York
I ain't these like these niggaz that be feinin' to front
Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt
Look I don't be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front
In somethin' that you seen and you want
But otherwise I'm cool wit' it
They say only the ones who never had gon' get and act a fool wit' it
Everybody's gangsta through the promotion
Even if they raised in a house wit' a view of the ocean
The bangers is growin' upset
'Cause' ya' ass is on tv throwin' up sets
And you know you ain't like that
But you'll say that you is
Go and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its his
You ain't a pimp or you wouldn't go to dinner wit' groupies
Ain't a baller 'cause' you wouldn't put spinners on hoopties
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
How can niggaz say they be on the other side of the seas'
Where the steering wheels are on the other side of the v's
And the homes look like the spot on the other side of the sea's
When they ain't never been on the other side of the p's
I ca' see through em', ya tints are too light
Every sentence you write is far from the truth
You want to be that nigga you are in the booth
But you ain't got the heart, the scars, or the proof
And now you flash ya' shirt tag in our grill
But I'm hearin' you was a dirtbag before the deal
You walk around talkin' how every dime sucked you
When they don't even speak to you, nevermind fucked you
Ya' hood sayin' don't come back
Step foot in here, and they gon' put you where you won't come back
Dog, how the fuck you gon' have keys in ya' house
When ya' momma won't even give you keys to the house loser
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
Nigga you in the mirror, checkin' what your make ups' lookin' like
Tryna fool the world wit' a Jacob look-a-like
Jiving like you blow stacks
But ya' car is ten years old homie, ya' drivin' in a throwback
They gon' strip you, have you runnin' naked next
Without security you like unprotected sex
You ain't never gon' finger a trigger
All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga
If real recognize real, you'd be a john doe
You livin' in a closet but call it a condo
I don't member you as a slinger that was on the bench
Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments
Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans
Nah, I think its these hip hop con mans
Studio gangstas is played out now
This ain't the eighties, battle raps'll get you laid out fucker
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
1-2-3 you don't really want to fuck wit me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
Fuck the cops, you on my block
Fuckin' wit a gangsta nigga
1-2-3 and any time that you on them streets
You better keep your hand on them heats
And live what you sayin' on them beats
Real talk
1-2-3 and any time that you on them streets
You better keep your hand on them heats
And live what you sayin' on them beats
Real talk
Real talk
Real talk
Real talk
Real talk
It's really really really really real talk
It's really really really really real talk
It's really really really really real talk
It's really really really really real talk nigga, uh
The Fabolous song, "Real Talk," is a commentary on modern rap culture, criticizing those who talk a big game but don't actually live up to their words. Fabulous notes that many rappers pretend to be gangsters or drug dealers for the sake of image, without any real experience on the streets. The lyrics point out that it's easy to talk tough in the safety of a recording studio, but when faced with the danger of the real world, these same rappers may not have what it takes to back up their words.
The song's chorus warns anyone who may doubt Fabolous's street cred not to mess with him, hinting at the violence and danger that can come from engaging in false machismo. The second verse points out some specific examples of fraudulence in the industry, highlighting rappers who try to fake wealth or criminal records for the sake of their image. The critique in "Real Talk" is not limited to the music industry alone but extends to the societal penchant for faking on social media platforms such as Instagram too, where people do not actually live up to the reality of their words or images.
Line by Line Meaning
On them streets
In dangerous areas where violence is common
You better keep your hand on them heats
Always keep a firearm with you for self-defense
And live what you sayin' on them beats
Your lyrics should reflect your real life experiences
They ain't walkin' the walk, they just talkin' the talk
Some rappers don't actually live the lifestyle they rap about
Some people look at me as the real talk of New York
Some people view me as a true representation of New York's rap scene
I ain't these like these niggaz who be feinin' to front
I'm not like fake rappers who pretend to be something they're not
Like they the first to ever put green in a blunt
Like they invented smoking weed
Look I don't be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the front
I don't aim to show off, but I wear clothing that attracts attention
In somethin' that you seen and you want
In something that you find desirable
Everybody's gangsta through the promotion
Many rappers appear tough only for promotional purposes
Even if they raised in a house wit' a view of the ocean
Even if they grew up wealthy and privileged
The bangers is growin' upset
Gang members are becoming increasingly angry
'cause' ya' ass is on t.v. throwin' up sets
Because you appear on TV, showing your gang affiliation
And you know you ain't like that
You know that you're not really a part of that lifestyle
But you'll say that you is
You'll pretend to be something you're not
Go and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its his
Rent expensive items to show off and pretend they belong to you
You ain't a pimp or you wouldn't go to dinner wit' groupies
If you were really a pimp, you wouldn't waste time with groupies
Ain't a baller 'cause' you wouldn't put spinners on hoopties
If you were truly wealthy, you wouldn't put fancy rims on cheap cars
1-2-3; you don't really want to fuck wit me
You don't want to mess with me
Get in the way you could get yourself shot
If you interfere with me, you could get hurt
Fuck the cops, you on my block
I don't trust the police, this is my territory
How can niggaz say they be on the other side of the seas'
How can rappers claim to have traveled to distant places
Where the steering wheels are on the other side of the v's
Where people drive on the opposite side of the road compared to America
And the home look like the spot on the other side of the see's
And the house is designed to look like a place in a different country
When they ain't never been on the other side of the p's
When they've never even been to basic, dangerous neighborhoods
I ca' see through em', ya tents are too light
I can see through their lies, they're not good at hiding their true selves
Every sentence you write is far from the truth
Their lyrics are not based on reality
You want to be that nigga you are in the booth
You want to be the successful rapper you portray in your music
But you ain't got the heart, the scars, or the proof
But you don't actually possess the toughness or the experience to back it up
And now you flash ya' shirt tag in our grill
And now you show off your expensive clothing in our face
But I'm hearin' you was a dirtbag before the deal
But I've heard that you were a terrible person before you became famous
You walk around talkin' how every dime sucked
You complain about every woman you've been with
When they don't even speak to you, nevermind fucked you
When they don't even associate with you, never mind sleep with you
Ya' hood sayin' don't come back
The inhabitants of your neighborhood don't want you to return
Step foot in here, and they gon' put you where you won't come back
If you return to this neighborhood, you'll be hurt or killed
Dog, how the fuck you gon' have keys in ya' house
How can you say you're wealthy or successful when your own mother doesn't trust you with a key to her house?
When ya' moms' won't even give you keys to the house loser
When your own mother sees through your facade and doesn't trust you with her belongings
Nigga you in the mirror, checkin' what your make ups' lookin' like
You're obsessed with your appearance and focus on vanity
Tryina fool the world wit' a Jacob look-a-like
Trying to fool people into thinking you can afford an expensive watch like Jacob & Co.
Jiving like you hold stacks
Acting like you have a lot of money
But ya' car is ten years old homie, ya' drivin' in a throwback
But your car is a decade old and outdated
They gon' strip you, have you runnin' naked next
They will embarrass you and remove everything you have
Without security you like unprotected sex
Without protection, you're vulnerable and at risk
You ain't never gon' finger a trigger
You will never actually use a gun
All you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a nigga
You only look at police records and point fingers at others
I real recognize real, you'd be a john doe
I can recognize authenticity, you would be anonymous and insignificant
You livin' in a closet and call it a condo
You are living in a small, cramped space and call it a luxury apartment
I don't member you as a slinger that was on the bench
I don't remember you as a drug dealer who was successful
Just a little scrub ass ringer in the tournaments
You were just a mediocre and insignificant player in amateur tournaments
Now they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fans
Some people blame the decline of hip hop on the listeners
Nah, I think its these hip hop con mans
I think it's actually the fake rappers who are responsible
Studio gangstas is played out now
Fake gangster rappers are no longer popular
This ain't the eighties, battle raps'll get you laid out
This isn't a time when rap battles were safe, now they can be dangerous
1-2-3; and any time that you on them streets
At all times when you're in dangerous areas
It's really really really really real talk
This is real and important information
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network
Written by: Duane Murchison, John David Jackson, Terrance Lovelace
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind