Keep It Real
Young and Plain Lyrics

Nigga we gonna keep it real dawg, hustiln high, 'cause live niggas keep it Real young, can we keep it real Loc? Tryin not to spill no blood, if It's real show a nigga love, nigga.
We're going to stay true to ourselves and what we do to make money, because authentic people stick together. Can you also stay true to yourself? Let's avoid violence, and support each other when it's genuine.

Nigga it burns for gold that rose before me that was fakin' the funk, Long an behold I come to get it, so I'm takin' it in chunks, out to Lunch for brunch, maggots gonna munch in perpendicular, order money, man Slaughter, I write this shit that's good for you, how many mutha fuckas Must get dealt wit?
I want what others had before me, but I won't pretend to be something I'm not to get it. Slowly & methodically, I'm taking it. Even if it means cutting off some leeches. I'm only writing about things that will benefit others. How many people need to be harmed before someone intervenes?

Before someone kick down yo door, an leave you Helpless, is you feelin' my fear, feelin' my vibe, at the same time, I Dirty my theroy, clickin my tribe, tryin' ta claim mine, hush, What you discovered don't shake the rictor, my nigga, my nerve, go get The camera, get the picture,
You're never safe, anyone can come for you anytime. Can you sense my dread and my essence? As I strengthen my beliefs and my group, I'm trying to secure my place. Quiet down, nothing can unsettle me. Prove my point by capturing evidence.

I'm laughin' at why'all for tryin' to ball, Wit yo mug on me, movin' a million mutha fuckas strappin murder machine, I come dainty an benidine, so gimme mine, sippin great wine, polishin Pussy that's genuine, paralized to the format still smokin' blunts for Days, an mama's theroies an ways, got me prepared ha, niggas ain't Ready, but if it wasn't for the grace of God, they say you couldn't live Life against all odds, I know it's hard, but it's real though, I'm 'bout Ta peel out, everytime I touch somethin', what ya feel yo, nigga, give a Fuck if you bigga.
You all think you're impressive with your tough-guy image, and your formidable weapon collection. I'm not aggressive, I move with grace and reservation. However, I still deserve my share. I enjoy the finer things in life, stick to my routines and upbringing. I've prepared myself thanks to my mother's guidance, and if not for the grace of a higher power, life would be impossible. I know it's tough, but it's the reality. I leave quickly, leaving a mark wherever I go, regardless of your status.

It be a piper push poundses, wit playas who want to rise, pick the pen Then ??? my rhyme, eh, so now I can make a leagal paper in this rap Game, at the first used to hear that boy playin' wit steel toys, now I'm Worse, can't break the curse, why'all laugh until I die
I work with a promoter who's willing to invest in me, alongside wonderful colleagues looking to succeed. I wrote my lyrics, so now I can make money legally. Initially, I was an amateur using cheap equipment, but now that I've invested, I'm worse off. I can't shake this curse of hardship. You guys find my failures amusing, even though it's hurting me.

Ughh! I live my life of a youngsta wit money, to many, bitches Pandhandlers, beggas an dummies, tryin ta, steal my soul, I mean suck me Dry, for these 20 inch rims on my ghetto ride,
Ugh! I live my life like a young wealthy person does. Too many women and people trying to depend on me. They all want something from me – my soul, my money, anything. It's all for the superficial things like rims for my car.

I couldn't lose my life Tryin' to keep my shoes, sell my soul to the devil, in the ghetto you Lose, an ain't no, nigga gonna make it, fakin' the game, too many blacks Behind bars for fortune and fame, I live, my life, readin' jail house Letters, I'm workin', money orders sendin weed through sweaters,
I couldn't risk my life just to keep my shoes, and to sell my soul for money. In the ghetto, no one comes out on top. None of us can succeed by cheating the system. Our community has too many black people locked up for trying to make something of themselves. I read letters from people in jail, while working and selling weed through the mail.

I seen Mama's turn off of hustlas and killas, my last supper probably gonna be Wit fiends an dealers. Ughhhh!
I've seen mothers abandon their children because of drug dealers and users, and my last meal will probably be with those types of people. Ugh!