r.e.a.l.i.t.y.

reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, "these are the streets!, shit is real out here!, this ain't no fuckin joke!", i lived in a spot called millbrooke projects, the original criminal minded rap topic, with twenty cents in my pocket i saw the light, if you're young gifted and black, you got no rights, your only true right, is a right to a fight, and not a fair fight, i wake up wonderin who died last night, everyone and everything is at war, makin my poetic expression hardcore, i ain't afraid to say it, and many can't get with it, at times in my life, i was a welfare recipient, i ate the free cheese, while the church said believe, and went to school everyday, like a god damn fool, well anyway, here i am, chillin at the party, brothers lookin at me like they wanna kill somebody, a cypher manifested in the center of the jam, i got to show these wack rappers really who i am, it's me against them, so i clear the phlegm, and wage the war, hardcore to the end, for someone lookin inside, yeah from the out, it seems like disrespect is what rap is all about, but hip-hop as a culture, is really what we give it, but sometimes the culture contradicts how we live it, cause every black kid lives two and three lives, the city's a jungle, only the strong will survive, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, every single day i hear lie after lie, like "black people don't die, we multiply", so when i kick a rhyme i represent how i feel, the sacred street art of keepin it real, why i gotta listen, to somebody else?, how they got wealth, let me talk about myself, but all i really got is hip-hop and a glock, the results are obvious, if i'm confined to my block, occasionally, in the city i'm released, to meet other beasts, lookin for the feast, we grunt and growl, on the prowl, as the air gets thinner, "yo yo there he go, him," there's the dinner, white meat, carryin a bag of some sort, life is short, white meat is quickly caught, a scuffle a muffle yet none of us hesitated, like mother africa, white meat is violated, we quickly dissapear, like santa's little elves, and go into a area to fight amongst ourselves, we say, "peace/piece" cause that's what we really want, a piece of the pie that america flaunts, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, "oh shit!", the truth is that police must serve and protect, reality is black youth is shown no respect, the truth is government has a war against drugs, reality is government is ruled by thugs, with all this technology, above and under, humanity still hunts down one another, rappers display artistic cannibalism, through lyricism, we fight each other over rhythm, through basic animal instincts, we think, so the battle for mental territory is glory, end of story, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, reality, ain't always the truth, rhymes equal actual life, in the youth, yeah, "these are the streets!, shit is real out here!, this ain't no fuckin joke!"