The Real Buddha Monk (Ft. P.G. & The Streets)

[P.G.]
Hurry up, let's go, take all his riches
That's what I used to learn from these older misses
You gotta, stop, cock and roll with mister
Flip, flop, my robes from dub to misses
Only run with real dudes, with the guns for sticking
Big dicks for sticking, fat tongues for licking
The type you like, she can have all my riches
Pretty Girl, you thorough, cancel all my business
Like to stick my pretty two's, but known to get stitches
Since a young girl, I've been grown up figures
Little older now, and I'm getting grandfather figures
More grands, than the grams, my poppa was sniffing
Laid up, slumped up, is how we leaving these niggas
Turned up, cooked up, like turnips in momma's kitchen
Burned up, like niggas banging dirty bitches
There's many ways, with a kiss, blazing niggas

[Chorus 2X: P.G. (Streets)]
Real recognize real, we known to spill
(Get back, flip tracks, been known to peel)
With hoes and fake niggas like Kodak film
(Kill tracks, murk beats, and we'll take your deal)

[Streets]
It's real, kid, I'm that chick
Time to recognize who she runs with
Spit, bars, I'm so sweet
Gutter langer by the name of Streets
Son get soaked when by myself
Heavyweight bitch, I hold the belts
I, rip tracks, yes, she's hot
I, run them Streets, I run blocks
I, keep my heat, don't fuck with cops, no
Tell Diddy, I won't stop, no
Time to cop, so step your game up
The reason why these fellas open
From rags to roaches, we've been had though
Been smoked that 'dro, beef for a ho
Holla, come on now, bitch, I know my work
Who you talking to bitch, yo, I sold myself