Niggas and Bitches

[ VERSE 1: Jayo Felony ]

I knew I was gone before they even put the handcuffs on

A whole chicken in the back of the Brougham

Rocked up, so I knew that I was locked up

Got a good lawyer but can't do nothin for ya

But they got chronic, I chills and get my puff on

Eat Ramen, hit my fifi, lift weights and get my buff on

These hoochies are trippin but I expect that, see

All on another fool's jock but they can't get a dime from me

But you my gee, see, and we supposed to be tight

So why the fuck you didn't send me no kite?

I been down for two and ain't heard a thing from you

See, that ain't the thang to do, let's keep this bangin true, blue

If it was you, you would want me to do the same thing

How you gon' slip and leave your homie on the hang?

I gots no time for you busters and you snitches

This is for the real - niggas and the bitches

[ VERSE 2: Jayo Felony ]

I had a down one, she kept my books on fat

We used to do it like this, then we would do it like that

This is for the real, to hell with the faker

I was on my bunk bed bumpin Anita Baker

Wishin I was in a hot thub gettin my back rubbed

Instead of bein in here with 4'000 thugs

I remember all the letters you wrote and the cards you sent

And them ends when you had to pay rent

But you would always get yours and couldn't nothin stop ya

Tight Guess and K-Swiss lookin proper

And you were proud to be Ms. Bullet Loco

Fool, don't phantasize off my foto

Even though you knew I was mackin you still stuck with me

Remindin me to stay sucker free

And when I touched down you kickin in straight riches

This is for the real - niggas and the bitches

[ VERSE 3: Jayo Felony ]

And now I'm fresh out, I was a C but they doubt me

Much love to the bitches that didn't forget about me

Because I surely won't forget about you

And everybody knows what the fuck I'm gon' do

Blow up from the flo' up, grow up and don't be to' up

The hoes that tried to clown, I diss them hookers like throw-up

I'm tryin to learn to keep my black ass on the streets

No more shackles on my feet

Makin funky hits like this I can't miss

Jam-Master Jay and T-Funk and my nigga Cool Chris

So when I'm at a picnic gettin my mob on

Don't walk up on me, we might have to get our squab on

And my female got a mouthpiece

Protection for the wicked streets of Southeast

My day is too short for you marks and you snitches

This is for the real - niggas and the bitches