Fabolous: Real talk

[Intro]On them streetsYou better keep your hand on them heatsAnd live what you sayin' on them beatsReal talk..[Verse 1]They ain't walkin' the walk, they just talkin' the talkSome people look at me as the real talk of New YorkI ain't these like these niggaz who be feinin' to frontLike they the first to ever put green in a bluntLook I don't be meaning to stunt, but I zip down like jeans in the frontIn somethin' that you seen and you wantBut otherwise I'm cool wit' itThey say only the ones who never had gon' get and act a fool wit' itEverybodys' gangsta through the promotionEven if they raised in a house wit' a view of the oceanThe bangers is growin' upsetCuz' ya' ass is on t.v. throwin' up setsAnd you know you ain't like thatBut you'll say that you isGo and rent a bunch a shit and and then say that its hisYou ain't a pimp or you wouldn't go to dinner wit' groupiesAin't a baller cuz' you wouldn't put spinners on hoopties[Hook 2X]1-2-3; you don't really wanna fuck wit meGet in the way you could get yourself shotFuck the cops, you on my blockFuckin' wit a gangsta nigga[Verse 2]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'sAnd the home look like the spot on the other side of the c'sWhen they ain't never been on the other side of the p'sI ca' see through em', ya tents are too lightEvery sentence you write is far from the truthYou wanna be that nigga you are in the boothBut you ain't got the heart, the scars, or the proofAnd now you flash ya' shirt tag in our grillBut I'm hearin' you was a dirtbag before the dealYou walk around talkin' how every dime suckedWhen they don't even speak to you, nevermind fucked youYa' hood sayin' don't come backStep foot in here, and they gon' put you where you won't come backDog, how the fuck you gon' have keys in ya' houseWhen ya' moms' won't even give you keys to the house loser[Hook][Verse 3]Nigga you in the mirror, checkin' what your make ups' lookin' likeTryina fool the world wit' a Jacob look-a-likeJiving like you hold stacksBut ya' car is ten years old homie, ya' drivin' in a throwbackThey gon' strip you, have you runnin' naked nextWithout security you like unprotected sexYou ain't never gon' finger a triggerAll you do is look in the mugshot book and finger a niggaI real recognize real, you'd be a john doeYou livin' in a closet and call it a condoI don't member you as a slinger that was on the benchJust a little scrub ass ringer in the tournamentsNow they try to blame the fall of hip hop on fansNah, I think its these hip hop con mansStudio gangstas is played out nowThis ain't the eighties, battle raps'll get you layed outFucka[Hook][Outro]1-2-3; and any time that you on them streetsYou better keep your hand on them heatsAnd live what you sayin' on them beatsReal talkReal talkIt's really really really really real talkIt's really really really really real talkIt's really really really really real talkIt's really really really really real talk