Letra de The Shit Is Real (DJ Premier Remix)

[Intro]
Yeah
This is goin' out to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin'
All the real niggas, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, California
La Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you're from, youknowhatumsayin'
Yeah

[Verso 1]
This story takes place, back in the South Bronx
Where at the age of fourteen I was already to knockin' off punks (yeah!)
And suckers were scared to death
Every time I walked by I hear them niggas take their last breath (ahhh..)
See, I just didn't give a fuck
And if you had a sheep skin leather bomber you was getting stuck (word!)
That was the way it was
One day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cous
See, something was fucked up back then
No matter what the fuck I did, I never had no ends
And my moms was on welfare
Aiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never there
So what the fuck was I had to do?
I'm sick and tired to being the bummiest nigga out the crew
I gotta get mine, I gotta get cash
I see an old man, I'm gonna rob him with the quick-fast
Gimme your motherfucking loot, papi
I'm going to get paid and can't a damn thing stop me
See, I'm tired of this poor shit
And who the cops?
Well they can suck my motherfuckin' dick
'Cause all them niggas ever do is harass
That's why I get glad when I hear somebody smoked that ass
Just to let ya know how I feel, word 'em up
The fuckin' shit is real

[Hook (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)]
Aiyyo it's real
Aiyyo the shit is real
The fuckin shit is real
Aiyyo it's real

[Verso 2]
Now I'm sixteen and there's a brand new scene
I'm makin' mad loot, gettin' paid off the dope fiends
Keeping shit in checking order
And my main man Tone was fucking everybody else's daughter
See everybody knew in town
That Joe and Tone had shit locked down
And a nigga wouldn't test me
It seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me
But the shit would never stick
I make one phone call and be out right quick
'Cause Uncle Dan had my back
And now niggas getting jealous 'cause they know I'm living fat
Talking shit around the way and on the block
But never in my face 'cause they knew I pack the Glock
And my crew is mad deep
A buncha crazy Puerto Ricans, so ayeo don't sleep
And all you bitch ass niggas know the deal, check it out
The fucking shit is real

[Hook]

[Verso 3]
Let me let ya know why I made this song
Brothers can't deal with the real, word is bond
I'm sick and tired of these fake-ass niggas
Saying that they're catching bodies when they never pulled a trigger
I know your style, I've seen it before
You wearing army suit, now you think you're hardcore
Drinking on your 40's, smoking on your blunts
Can't afford a chain so you wear gold fronts yeah
You fakin' the funk, kid
And you'd be getting it up the ass if you ever did a fucking bid
It's time to separate the real from the phony
The name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know me
I come equipped with the ruff shit
Nowadays I can't believe the bull rappers come up with
And all y'all bitch ass niggas know the deal, check it out
The fucking shit is real

[Hook]

[Conclusi�n]
Word up
I wanna say peace to my peeps, the Beatnuts
Messengers Of Funk, strictly Roots
My man Four Flex, Zulu Nation
Jazzy J in the house
Diamond D, the whole Diggin' In The Crates crew
And rest in peace to my man Tony Montana
Aiyo, I'm out, word is bond
The shit is real
(*Premier cuts "Fat Joe's in town"*)