Verse 1: Brother
Marquis
Only the realest can feel us,
cap- peelers and killers
Hundred- dollar billers and real niggas
Bitches with dime figures,
telekenesis in my mind
Make my diamonds shine,
then I blind niggas
Pussy punk perpatrators and
playa haters -
They can't fade us 'cause
we two of the greatest
Back out to let 'em have
it, fake fucks and faggots
Bow down in the presence
of players and kiss the karats
A wrist full of (?) for all
the maggots
Back up and get embarrassed,
bitch, get off my carriage
Uncut, no lactose, hear the raw dose
Straight off the key,
100% G
Who's puttin' it down on
Miami's behalf
Home of the nickel (?) and the
raw half
Everywhere we go, the impression's felt
The real is stamped on the bag
and the dope is dealt
Verse 2: Ice- T
It's '98, playa, check your game
Make sure them young boys
respect your name
Keep your heed at arms,
reached, cocked and ready
'Cause the streets'll catch you
slippin' and rock you steady
Watch your back with your
homies that you feel is real
Your homeboys from your crew, yeah,
they're the ones who do
Yeah, the suckas that got the
playa hater venom,
I want to take 'em outside
and lay slugs up in 'em
But that's trippin',
and that ain't my sport
I'd rather lamp up my cirb and
flip to rob a port
I sip my v- dozen on the street,
bump my beats
When I'm twistin' my dub,
can't nobody compete
(Imagine this) Hundred-
g Lex on your wrist
(Imagine this) About 10 karats on your
fist
(Imagine this) All dime
hoes on your list
Huh, that shit would be nice,
but your name ain't Ice
(Nigga trip) And screw the style and so on,
rock you softly
How you gonna step to me, kid,
you grew up off me
TV, movies and records and tours
So many buses in Versace I
don't wear it no more
Called my nigga in Miami,
"Marquis, wussup?"
He said, "Playa,
chop some game on this bubblin' cut!"
I said, "Shoot me the track,
or you can come too,
Or if y'all want to ball in Cali,
I'll fly in
your whole
Crew."
Verse 3: Brother Marquis
I'ma stay in the field,
on a quest for the mil's
And try to keep it real till I die or get killed
So I can sit back and kick it, write
my own ticket
And live this lavish lifestyle of trickin'
and big- dickin'
Seein' that the West and the South's
connected
Formulatin',
plottin' game to perfection
Down with the Syndicate,
bossin' new tennis shit
Crimes cold defended,
get caught, do the sin
There's politickin' in the
600, drunk and blunted
That's how we front it, but
you don't want to run up on it
Inside the club packin', actin',
Got my bitch at home see- sackin',
got my ones stackin'
Parlay, playin' diamond link,
cu bin' cable
Baddest bitches in the stable,
mo' money on the table
I'm back in the game to show
'em how it's done
Ice- T and Marquis,
you're fuckin' with the real one!