The Real One (Explicit Version) chords and lyrics - THE 2 LIVE CREW, ICE-T

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[Verse 1]
featur[C]ing [Em]Ice- T

[Verse 2]
Verse [C]1: Brother[Bm]
[D][C]
[D]Marquis[C]
[D][C][Em]
[C]Only the realest can feel us,
cap- peelers and killers
[D]Hundred- dollar [C]billers and real niggas
Bitches with dime figures,
telekenesis in my mind
[Em]Make my di[C]amonds shine,
then I blind niggas
Pussy punk perpatrators and
playa [D]haters -
They can't fade us 'cause
we [C]two of the greatest
Back out to let 'em have
it, fake fucks and faggots
Bow down in the presence
of players and kiss the karats
A wrist full of (?) for all
the mag[D]gots
Back up and get em[C]barrassed,
bitch, get off my carriage
Uncut, no lactose, hear the raw dose
[Em]Straight off the key,
[C]100% G
Who's puttin' it down on
Miami's be[Bm]half
[D]Home of the [Em]nickel (?) and the
raw [C]half
Everywhere we go, the impression's felt
The real is [Em]stamped on the bag
and the [C]dope is dealt

[Verse 3]
[C]Chorus (2x):
Gat in the back, sun[Bm]roof top,
[G]Real one on the scene with
the gangsta [C]lean
[The real [Bm]one! [C]Huh[Bm]? Wh[C]ut?
The real [D]one! Huh,
[C]nigga whut?]

[Verse 4]
Verse 2: Ice- T
It's '98, playa, check your [Bm]game
[C]Make sure them young boys
respect your name
Keep your heed at arms,
reached, cocked and ready
[Em]'Cause the streets'll catch you
slippin' and rock [C]you steady
Watch your back with your
homies that you feel is real
Your homeboys from your crew, yeah,
they're the ones who do
Yeah, the suckas that got the
playa hater venom,
I want to take 'em outside
and lay slugs up in 'em
But that's trippin',
and that ain't my sport
I'd rather lamp up my cirb and
flip to rob a port
I sip my v- dozen on the street,
bump my beat[Em]s
When I'm twistin' my dub,
can't [C]nobody compete
(Imagine this) Hundred-
g Lex on your [Bm]wrist[D]
(Ima[C]gine this) About 10 karats on your
fist
(Imagine this) All dime
hoes on your [Em]list
Huh, that shit would be nice,
but your name ain't [C]Ice
(Nigga trip) And screw the style and so on,
rock you [Bm]softly
[Em]How you gonna [C]step to me, kid,
you grew up off me
TV, movies and records and tours
So many buses in Versace I
don't wear it no more
Called my nigga in Miami,
[Bm]"Marquis, wussup?"
He said, "Playa,
chop some [C]game on this bubblin' cut!"
I said, "Shoot me the track,
or you can come too,
Or if y'all want to ball in Cali,
[Bm]I'll [G]fly [C]in[D]
[C]your who[Bm]le
[G]Cre[C]w."[D]
[C]

[Verse 5]
[C]Chor[D] us[C]

[Verse 6]
[Em]Verse 3: B[C]rother Marquis
I'ma stay in the field,
on a quest [D]for the mil's
And try to keep it [C]real till I die or get killed
So I can sit back and kick it, write
my own [Em]ticket
And live this lavish life[C]style of trickin'
and big- dickin'
Seein' that the West and the South's
connec[D]ted
Formulatin',
plottin' game [C]to perfection
Down with the Syndicate,
bossin' new tennis shit
[Em]Crimes cold de[C]fended,
get caught, do the sin
There's politickin' in the
600, drunk and [D]blunted
That's how we front it, but
[C]you don't want to run up on it
Inside the club packin', actin',
Got my [Em]bitch at home [C]see- sack[D]in',
got my [C]ones stackin'
Parlay, playin' diamond link,
[Bm]cu bin' cable
Baddest [Em]bitches in the stable,
mo' [C]money on the table
I'm back in the game to show
'em how it's done
Ice- [Em]T and Marqu[C]is,
you're [Bm]fuckin' [Em]with [C]th[D]e real one![C]

[Outro 1]
Chorus
[C][Bm][G][C]
[D][C]
[D][Em][C]
[Em]
[C][D]
[Em][C]
[Bm]
[Em][D][C][Em]
[C]