Tonalité : F# minor•
Verse 1
D
F#m
featuring Ice- T
Verse 2
D
C#m
Verse 1: Brother
E
D
E
D
Marquis
E
D
F#m
D
Only the realest can feel us,
cap- peelers and killers
E
D
Hundred- dollar billers and real niggas
Bitches with dime figures,
telekenesis in my mind
F#m
D
Make my diamonds shine,
then I blind niggas
Pussy punk perpatrators and
E
playa haters -
They can't fade us 'cause
D
we 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
E
the maggots
D
Back up and get embarrassed,
bitch, get off my carriage
Uncut, no lactose, hear the raw dose
F#m
Straight off the key,
Who's puttin' it down on
C#m
Miami's behalf
E
F#m
Home of the nickel (?) and the
D
raw half
Everywhere we go, the impression's felt
F#m
The real is stamped on the bag
D
and the dope is dealt
Verse 3
D
Chorus (2x):
C#m
Gat in the back, sunroof top,
A
Real one on the scene with
D
the gangsta lean
C#m
D
C#m
D
[The real one! Huh? Whut?
E
The real one! Huh,
D
nigga whut?]
Verse 4
Verse 2: Ice- T
C#m
It's '98, playa, check your game
D
Make sure them young boys
respect your name
Keep your heed at arms,
reached, cocked and ready
F#m
'Cause the streets'll catch you
D
slippin' and rock 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,
F#m
bump my beats
When I'm twistin' my dub,
D
can't nobody compete
(Imagine this) Hundred-
C#m
E
g Lex on your wrist
D
(Imagine this) About 10 karats on your
fist
(Imagine this) All dime
F#m
hoes on your list
Huh, that shit would be nice,
D
but your name ain't Ice
(Nigga trip) And screw the style and so on,
C#m
rock you softly
F#m
D
How you gonna 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,
C#m
"Marquis, wussup?"
He said, "Playa,
D
chop some 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,
C#m
A
D
E
I'll fly in
D
C#m
your whole
A
D
E
Crew."
D
Verse 5
D
E
D
Chorus
Verse 6
F#m
D
Verse 3: Brother Marquis
I'ma stay in the field,
E
on a quest for the mil's
D
And try to keep it real till I die or get killed
So I can sit back and kick it, write
F#m
my own ticket
D
And live this lavish lifestyle of trickin'
and big- dickin'
Seein' that the West and the South's
E
connected
Formulatin',
D
plottin' game to perfection
Down with the Syndicate,
bossin' new tennis shit
F#m
D
Crimes cold defended,
get caught, do the sin
There's politickin' in the
E
600, drunk and blunted
That's how we front it, but
D
you don't want to run up on it
Inside the club packin', actin',
F#m
D
E
Got my bitch at home see- sackin',
D
got my ones stackin'
Parlay, playin' diamond link,
C#m
cu bin' cable
F#m
Baddest bitches in the stable,
D
mo' money on the table
I'm back in the game to show
'em how it's done
F#m
D
Ice- T and Marquis,
C#m
F#m
D
E
D
you're fuckin' with the real one!
Outro 1
Chorus
D
C#m
A
D
E
D
E
F#m
D
F#m
D
E
F#m
D
C#m
F#m
E
D
F#m
D
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsD F#m C#m E A
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