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Yeah

This is goin` out ... to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin`

All the real niggaz, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, California

La Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you`re from, youknowhatumsayin`

Yeah



Verse One:



This story takes place, back in the South Bronx

Where at the age of fourteen I was ready to knockin` off punks (yeah!)

And suckers were scared to death

Every time I walked by I hit them niggaz take their last breath (ahhh..)

See, I just didn`t give a fuck

And if you had a seed skin, I let the bomba you was getting stuck (word!)

That was the way it was

One day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cous

See, something was fucked up back then

No matter what the fuck I did, I never had no ends

And my moms was on walfare

Aiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never there

So what the fuck was I had to do

When sick and tired to bein` the bummiest nigga out the crew



I gotta get mine, I gotta get cash!

I see an old man, I`m gonna rob him with the quick-fast

Gimme your motherfucking loot, popi

I`m goin` to get paid and can`t a damn thing stop me

See, I`m tired of this porshit

And who the cops? Well they can suck my motherfuckin` dick!

Cause all them niggaz ever do is harass

That`s why I came glad when I heard somebody swooped that ass (*gunshot*)

Just to let ya know how I feel, word`em up

The fuckin` shit is real



Chorus: (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)



Aiyyo its real

Aiyyo the shit is real

The fuckin shit is real

Aiyyo its real



Verse Two:



Now I`m sixteen and there`s a brand new scene

I`m makin` mad dupe, gettin` paid off the dope fiends (word)

*?Deep in shit?* the checkin order,

and my main man Tone was fuckin everybody else`s daughter

See everybody knew in town that Joe and Tone had shit locked down

And a nigga wouldn`t test me

It seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me (yea!)

But the shit would never stick

I make one phone call and he`ll be out by quick

Cause uncle Tan had my back

And now niggaz gettin` jealous cause they know I`m livin` fat

Talkin shit around the way and over block

But never in my face cause they knew I`d clap the glock

And my crew is mad deep

I`m punchin crazy puerto rican, so why yo don`t sleep (word!)

And all you bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out

The fucking shit is real



Chorus



Verse Three:



Let me let ya know why I made this song (why!?)

Brothers can`t deal with the real, word is bond

I`m sick and tired of these fake ass niggaz

Sayin` that they`re catchin` bodies when they never pulled a trigga

I know ya style, I`ve seen it before

You wearin` army suit, now you think you`re hardcore

Drinkin on your 40`s, smokin on your blunts

Then afford a chainsaw, yo there ho fronts ,yeah

You fakin` the funk, kid

And you`d be *?kidnapped?* the ass if you ever did a fucking bid

It`s time to separate the real from the phony

The name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know me

I come from crypt with that ruff shit

Nowadays I can`t believe the *?bull/boo?* rappers come up with

And all y`all bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out

The fuckin shit is real



Chorus



Outro:



Word up!

I wanna say peace to my peeps, the Beatnuts

Messengers Of Funk, strictly Roots

My man Four Flex, Zulu Nation

Jazzy J in the house

Diamond D, the whole Diggin` In The Crates crew

And rest in peace to my man Tony Montana

Aiyo, I`m out, word is bond

The shit is real



(*Premier cuts "Fat Joe`s in town"*)

Yeah

This is goin` out ... to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin`

All the real niggaz, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, California

La Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you`re from, youknowhatumsayin`

Yeah



Verse One:



This story takes place, back in the South Bronx

Where at the age of fourteen I was ready to knockin` off punks (yeah!)

And suckers were scared to death

Every time I walked by I hit them niggaz take their last breath (ahhh..)

See, I just didn`t give a fuck

And if you had a seed skin, I let the bomba you was getting stuck (word!)

That was the way it was

One day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cous

See, something was fucked up back then

No matter what the fuck I did, I never had no ends

And my moms was on walfare

Aiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never there

So what the fuck was I had to do

When sick and tired to bein` the bummiest nigga out the crew



I gotta get mine, I gotta get cash!

I see an old man, I`m gonna rob him with the quick-fast

Gimme your motherfucking loot, popi

I`m goin` to get paid and can`t a damn thing stop me

See, I`m tired of this porshit

And who the cops? Well they can suck my motherfuckin` dick!

Cause all them niggaz ever do is harass

That`s why I came glad when I heard somebody swooped that ass (*gunshot*)

Just to let ya know how I feel, word`em up

The fuckin` shit is real



Chorus: (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)



Aiyyo its real

Aiyyo the shit is real

The fuckin shit is real

Aiyyo its real



Verse Two:



Now I`m sixteen and there`s a brand new scene

I`m makin` mad dupe, gettin` paid off the dope fiends (word)

*?Deep in shit?* the checkin order,

and my main man Tone was fuckin everybody else`s daughter

See everybody knew in town that Joe and Tone had shit locked down

And a nigga wouldn`t test me

It seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me (yea!)

But the shit would never stick

I make one phone call and he`ll be out by quick

Cause uncle Tan had my back

And now niggaz gettin` jealous cause they know I`m livin` fat

Talkin shit around the way and over block

But never in my face cause they knew I`d clap the glock

And my crew is mad deep

I`m punchin crazy puerto rican, so why yo don`t sleep (word!)

And all you bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out

The fucking shit is real



Chorus



Verse Three:



Let me let ya know why I made this song (why!?)

Brothers can`t deal with the real, word is bond

I`m sick and tired of these fake ass niggaz

Sayin` that they`re catchin` bodies when they never pulled a trigga

I know ya style, I`ve seen it before

You wearin` army suit, now you think you`re hardcore

Drinkin on your 40`s, smokin on your blunts

Then afford a chainsaw, yo there ho fronts ,yeah

You fakin` the funk, kid

And you`d be *?kidnapped?* the ass if you ever did a fucking bid

It`s time to separate the real from the phony

The name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know me

I come from crypt with that ruff shit

Nowadays I can`t believe the *?bull/boo?* rappers come up with

And all y`all bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out

The fuckin shit is real



Chorus



Outro:



Word up!

I wanna say peace to my peeps, the Beatnuts

Messengers Of Funk, strictly Roots

My man Four Flex, Zulu Nation

Jazzy J in the house

Diamond D, the whole Diggin` In The Crates crew

And rest in peace to my man Tony Montana

Aiyo, I`m out, word is bond

The shit is real



(*Premier cuts "Fat Joe`s in town"*)

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