Reality Check lyrics

[Intro: Too $hort]
$hort Dog's in the house...
Hey, Seag, what you mean when you talk about gangstas?



[Verse 1: Seagram]
When I'm talking about gangstas
I ain't talking about gang bangers
Small time corner hangers, I'm talking about bird slangers
Not them fake ass shoot em up type
But the type that shoot you ass when the time's right
So would you tell me what's your mack like
What's your stack like
Slanging crack on a track making stacks to the day light
n*ggas keep it ceased, my pockets increases
I can't be faded, not even with some bleach
Most of you n*ggas ain't gangstas, you kicking drama
But that drama will cause your ass drama
In my H-O-O-D, that big S to the N to the V
On the late night ride, straight on the mission
On highway 5 with a trunk full of chickens
Gangsta living is a sport
But playing these hoes is for the pros
Like my boy Too $hort


[Verse 2: Too $hort]
Big Baby pass the mic so I can dog these freaks
Two rapping mothaf*ckas from East Oakland streets...
On that ass, so what you gonna do with that?
Some b*tch lost a n*gga when they peeled his cap
When they was getting at his ass, hollered 'Let that go!'
But Oakland, California don't protect no hoe
Cause they'll write you off like taxes
Everywhere you go you get your ass kicked
n*ggas don't appreciate you coming with a phony
Kinda like The Mack when he smoked Pretty Tony
And that's straight pimp game from the O
My name is $hort Dog, you wanna know...
Some? Nothing but gangstas and playas out here
Can't be a fake n*gga staying out here
b*tches learn early to respect this game
So they never talk down on a player's name
b*tch...b*tch...b*tch...
Gangstas...Gangstas...Gangstas...Players...Players...Players
Gangstas...Gangstas...Gangstas...Players...Players...Players
Gangstas...Gangstas...Gangstas...Players...Players...Players
Gangstas...Gangstas...Gangstas...Players...Players...Players


[Verse 3: Seagram]
It's the big bad ass n*gga named Seag
Back in your ass with a trick up my sleave
Snitches acting like a b*tches in a way
Gonna be find with the vicious, sewing stiches, when I spray
You f*cking with a n*gga that's hard to the bone
Giving mothaf*ckas close-ups of my barrel
So peek out game from the East Side vet
From the 69 set, it's as real as it gets
Still blending up hop in a blender
Wore my beanie at the Winter, a full time offender
With them terrorized, hellafied, gangstarized lyrics
Creeping to you speaker like an Alcapone spirit
Crawling and balling to the East Side jungle
n*ggas steady calling, I'm holling off bundless
I'm the judge and jury of this court
But I'ma kick back and hit this 'Port
And pass the mic to $hort



[Verse 4: Too $hort]
I'm zipping Hennessey straight, smoking my dank
My b*tch is outta pocket, can't have no bank
Should I kick her mothaf*cking ass?
Cause punk n*ggas out here don't last
Maybe I should fire my b*tch and get a new hoe
Have her sprung on old school Too $ho
Let her fine ass ride in my Lexus
Take her to my house and start talking about sex, b*tch
Anyway you want it, it be something tight
Roll with $hort Dog, b*tch, you f*cking tonight
Straight player from the O, hoe, yes, it's me
Got love for the gangstas from S.N.V
If it weren't for the pimp and a mack in me
I wouldn't holler at my homeboys, black indeed
What's up? Seag got me at the studio
Called me up so I can take it to these hoes
And that's just what we gonna do...
Take it to these hoe ass n*ggas and you b*tches...
Straight from the Oaktown...
East Side, b*tch...


[Verse 5: Seagram]
Macking and stacking...
Slapping b*tches, you know what I mean?
Just a gangsta thang, you know what I'm saying?
East Side, b*tch, in the house...