I don't really have a story I can tell
I did some drugs, let off some shells
I got kicked out the school, I f*cked up all my mental health
And not one person I had known had asked me how I felt
And that's alright with me, it's f*ck em all, let's give em hell
One day I know that imma get a real plaque
Rose gold with white diamonds and my grill match
'sace shirt and Prada pants, so me and my girl match
Brody used to pack a toolie inside of his book bag, now he switched up
He done left that life behind and now he's fixed up
Still don't test him, he ain't blind, he gon' hit ya
Hollow tips open your mind
You see through your third eye
Now you flyin' up in the sky
If I leave this house, I'm not sure where I'll live after
Maybe LA or Atlanta, meet some real rappers
Y'all some fakes, not what I want, I need some real steppers
That ride or die shit, I'm tryna find some real brethren
I'm tryna drive, I'm losin' focus, where the wheel at
I'm tired of tryna do the math on where the real at
Cause f*ck like where the real at
All these people turned they backs on me and now they tryna crawl back
OJBLUE - Real Lyrics
OJBLUE - Real Lyrics
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English
I don't really have a story I can tell
I did some drugs, let off some shells
I got kicked out the school, I f*cked up all my mental health
And not one person I had known had asked me how I felt
And that's alright with me, it's f*ck em all, let's give em hell
One day I know that imma get a real plaque
Rose gold with white diamonds and my grill match
'sace shirt and Prada pants, so me and my girl match
Brody used to pack a toolie inside of his book bag, now he switched up
He done left that life behind and now he's fixed up
Still don't test him, he ain't blind, he gon' hit ya
Hollow tips open your mind
You see through your third eye
Now you flyin' up in the sky
If I leave this house, I'm not sure where I'll live after
Maybe LA or Atlanta, meet some real rappers
Y'all some fakes, not what I want, I need some real steppers
That ride or die shit, I'm tryna find some real brethren
I'm tryna drive, I'm losin' focus, where the wheel at
I'm tired of tryna do the math on where the real at
Cause f*ck like where the real at
All these people turned they backs on me and now they tryna crawl back
I did some drugs, let off some shells
I got kicked out the school, I f*cked up all my mental health
And not one person I had known had asked me how I felt
And that's alright with me, it's f*ck em all, let's give em hell
One day I know that imma get a real plaque
Rose gold with white diamonds and my grill match
'sace shirt and Prada pants, so me and my girl match
Brody used to pack a toolie inside of his book bag, now he switched up
He done left that life behind and now he's fixed up
Still don't test him, he ain't blind, he gon' hit ya
Hollow tips open your mind
You see through your third eye
Now you flyin' up in the sky
If I leave this house, I'm not sure where I'll live after
Maybe LA or Atlanta, meet some real rappers
Y'all some fakes, not what I want, I need some real steppers
That ride or die shit, I'm tryna find some real brethren
I'm tryna drive, I'm losin' focus, where the wheel at
I'm tired of tryna do the math on where the real at
Cause f*ck like where the real at
All these people turned they backs on me and now they tryna crawl back
Writer: Ian Tucker
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid