Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Richard J. Ascencio, Tracy Lauren Marrow
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Ice TReturn Of the Real Lyrics:
Yo, what's up with all these niggas
On these muthafuckin' records talkin' all this bullshit
I ain't tryin' to hear that shit, man
These bitches ain't players, man
Peace to my street niggas movin' that weight
Much love to my comrades who's out in upstate
Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game
Street fame, I got much that's in touch with my name
Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame nigga trippin'
Wake up my posse, interrup' the Rémy sippin'
Four in your back and keep bailin'
Listen to the HK wailin' and your vital signs failin'
Everyone that ever met me knows
I work bitches like niggas, pimp niggas like hoes
Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked
You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it
For ten years I been connected to the top of this
Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin' this
Too busy rollin' off them fat chrome rims
And niggas who trip get sung hymns
We crash clubs and security shits
'Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips
Crazy muthafuckas lickin' shots in doors
Leavin' suckers' bodies bleedin' over nightclub floors
You don't want none, son, stay gone
Break north when I come and you might live long
Yeah, my face kickin' treble, you're just a pebble
You're gettin' rocked, yo, E, cock the glock
And let these niggas know, yo, that the west don't play none
Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun
You broke ill and you cold fucked up
Now you're bleedin' through your fingers while you're holdin' your gut
So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through
Get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through
It's the return of the real
Return of the real
I go deep into the street life's anatomy
A nigga take me out, yo, what a upset that'd be
And if I fall I fall on cushions, [Incomprehensible]
Hittin' niggas up with the tec and watch the blood gushin'
I see your videos, a 100 niggas in it you don't know
Framed in the lens, bought friends
Who really got your back, nigga, check it out
You really possess like zero street clout
The only place you're safe is in the studio
Yellin' in the mic, you'se a bitch, that's right
I take a nigga like you and make him prostitute cute
So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot
You front hardcore, but I don't feel ya
Kids from my hood'll take your punk ass and peel ya
Let me check my Rolex quick because time's money
Squintin' from the pavet face because it's kinda sunny
Skinnin' the top back, flossin' the rag and the thing
Feelin' the sun, backin' off of my pinky ring
Hittin' the 'Shaw with my niggas and clown
Lift the ass, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground
But most of the time you can't see a nigga
Deep in the archives parlayin' new ways to get my bank bigger
So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through
So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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