Текст песни If It Ain't Real (Mac Dre) с переводом

Feds and the ATF, they try to clown

‘Cause we connected Fillmore with the 3C's down

Nigga, I gets around

Mac Dre, you know these niggas’ll love to playa hate

But watch the Glock bounce, rock and skate

Through they cranium and travel to they mid-brain

More murder, more cocaine

That’s the theme, came thicker than Gold Medal flour

Y’all got the game mixed up, it’s the money then the power

And these good-for-nothing bitches come along with the riches

And on your safe, that hoe is plottin' for the digits

Y’all got it twisted, like Mac Mall, get some Get Right

And dump on that hoe, 45 Calico infrared light

The game ain’t right, a Fillmore nigga stick to the script

Never trust a bitch with your sack, a cuddie around your scat

And sees this cat, from the F-I-double-L-M-O-iggidy

To the 7−0-Siggidy, Seff tha Gaffla, San Quinn and young Miggidy

You niggas ain’t feelin' me, my nigga Coolio put me in the giggidy

From the SF-siggidy, to the V, if it ain’t real it ain’t riggidy

Well it’s the Unda’Dogg, with the shit that’ll make you wonder, dog

How in the fuck he spit like this, well make way, ‘cause here comes a hog

See ain’t no slackin' up in my stackin', steadily mackin'

And I’m gettin' my propers on for makin' you up a proper song

And nevertheless, I’m smokin' my zest and drinkin' up on that Tanqueray

Or separators, that Kahlua, milk and E&J

So what they say, they know who’s keepin' it real, nigga

From the L.A. to the Bay, from the Crestside to the Fill', nigga

Messy Marv, Seff tha Gaffla and San Quinn done did it

Hooked up with Mac Dre and Coolio, bustas can’t get with it

Come in on this mic, I spit it on this mic, I shitted on this mic

And keepin' it tight, if it ain’t real it ain’t right

Man, I came way across the Bay to do this shit with Mac Dre

Fillmore, Califor-ni-a, the place the Gaffla stay

Many dues I had to pay, several cats I had to slay

Turned out a few shows, got sprayed with the pepper spray

Everything is OK, my lifestyle brings me riches

Me and Mess in a Lex, while the Quinn pops the bitches

My cousin Kelly on the phone with Julio

Damn, who made this beat? It’s my nigga Coolio

So do your duty, hoe; respect a nigga to the fullest

Every time we walk through, all you wanna do is pull us

So what you think? Do you bitches have some time?

Better yet, do you hoes have a dime?

Bein' broke is a grind, that’s why we all comin' tight

Bitches keep your shit tight; if it ain’t real it ain’t right

It’s your Crestside potna in this bitch off the heezy

Doin' what I do, stayin' true to the 3C's

Which is we evaded D’s, makin' G’s, takin' these

Livin' experiences, such as shakin' ki’s

Breakin' these bitches in a vicious fashion

The name is Naked, respect it or get a lashin'

I’m back and forth from the studio to the dope track

So when I grab the mic, why should I hold back?

I sold crack, way before they called it yay

Done been to prison, now I’m back with my boy Mac Dre

Stackin' pay as I say my say and do my dues

An actual factual muthafucka, I thought you knew

It never stop, it never quit, so represent my residence

To the highest, we the flyest muthafuckas since United

Not divided but unified, retaliate to the murder, I

Hope they let kill it when I be feelin' what’s inside my ass

Quick to blast, slow to speak, we can grip or chunk ‘em

Heated discussions always lead to somethin' that might be dumpin'

Pumpin' raw ‘caine to the veins without a flaw

I answer y’all so profane how I came to your fuckin' jaw

Haters can’t get around me, I sport that sucka repellent

From a mile away, I spot a sucka smellin' like he jealous

Well of us goodfellas, we only goodfellas

The hotelers will forever be drug sellers and dank smokers

Too ferocious to approach in the wrong fashion

We mashin', assassins, a silence with violence

Is life, bitches get macked, riches get stacked

Since I’m on the track, I say the true facts

From the Bay to Montego, servin' this game to my people

That’s lethal, you know how we do, nigga

On your marks, get set, you suckas better get ready

I’m steppin' out your dreams like a nigga named Freddy

Krueger, the name rhymes with 9-millimeter Luger

And fuckin' with mine, punk nigga, I’ll do ya

3C's down is where I chill at, get my scrill at

Stay real at, and every day I get scratch

It’s like an itch, and I’m addicted

So Lord could you please help me get this

Monkey off my back before I gets my gat

Put it to your dome, and dare you to talk back

Ain’t no slackin' on my pimpin', bitch, don’t put up a fight

A nigga gots to come tight, if it ain’t real it ain’t right

It’s the Mac named Dre from the C-R-E-S-T

Gettin' dough with my folks from the ‘Moe, young Messy

Marv and we starvin' for more dollars

So we pimps a bitch and get hoe dollars

See, I love to floss but keep it real though

Droppin' sauce with boss playas from Fillmore

Now pay close attention as I put this script down

And rap about these suckas and these bitches they kick down

I’m Mac Dre, and I’m hooked with the Romp crew

And getting' filthy rich off a bitch is what Romp do

Playa haters hate to see a young brotha ridin'

From the other side, you hear ‘run, brotha, hide'

‘Cause I be servin' muthafuckas with this Double-R press game

A goddamn savage comin' straight out the Crest, mayne

3C soldier Double-R for life

And if it ain’t real, cuddie, you know it ain’t right