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Artist: Young Bleed f/ C-Loc, Master P
Album:  My Balls and My Word
Song:   Keep it Real
Typed by:

(Master P talking)

Yeah, huh, my boy Young Bleed in here, C-Loc in here, an you know the 
colonel MP up in here

Chorus: Young Bleed

Nigga we gonna keep it real dawg, hustiln high, cuz live niggas keep it 
real young, can we keep it real Loc? Tryin not to spill no blood, if 
it's real show a nigga love, nigga.

Verse 1- Young Bleed

Nigga it burns for gold that rose before me that was fakin' the funk, 
long an behold I come to get it, so I'm takin' it in chunks, out to 
lunch for brunch, maggots gonna munch in perpendicular, order money, man 
slaughter, I write this shit thats good for you, how many mutha fuckas 
must get dealt wit? Before someone kick down yo door, an leave you 
helpless, is you feelin' my fear, feelin' my vibe, at the same time, I 
dirty my theroy, clickin my tribe, tryin' ta claim mine, hush, 
what you discovered don't shake the rictor, my nigga, my nerve, go get 
the camera, get the picture, I'm laughin' at y'all for tryin' to ball, 
wit yo mug on me, movin' a million mutha fuckas strappin murder machine, 
I come dainty an benidine, so gimme mine, sippin great wine, polishin 
pussy thats genuine, paralized to the format still smokin' blunts for 
days, an mama's theroies an ways, got me prepared ha, niggas ain't 
ready, but if it wasn't for the grace of God, they say you couldn't live 
life against all odds, I know it's hard, but it's real though, I'm 'bout 
ta peel out, everytime I touch somethin', what ya feel yo, nigga, give a 
fuck if you bigga.


Verse 2- C-Loc

It be a piper push poundses, wit playas who wanna rise, pick the pen 
then ??? my rhyme, eh, so now I can make a leagal paper in this rap 
game, at the first used to hear that boy playin' wit steel toys, now I'm 
worse, can't break the curse, y'all laugh until I die, comin' from the 
dirt, so watch a young hustler rise an shine, like the ghetto 
mastermind, (bout it bout it) let em know, why do, doin' all that lyin' 
got the nation down to ???, young mutha fucka ain't do shit, can't stand 
the heat get out the kitchen, before trigga fingas get to itchin', getty 
up, get into position to have twitchin', thinkin', damn, how could I 
have mention, stop trippin', keep it real nigga.

Chorus x2

Verse 3- Master P

Ughh! I live my life of a youngsta wit money, to many, bitches 
pandhandlers, beggas an dummies, tryin ta, steal my soul, I mean suck me 
dry, for these 20 inch rims on my ghetto ride, I couldn't lose my life 
tryin' to keep my shoes, sell my soul to the devil, in the ghetto you 
lose, an ain't no, nigga gonna make it, fakin' the game, too many blacks 
behind bars for fortune and fame, I live, my life, readin' jail house 
letters, I'm workin', money orders sendin weed through sweaters, I seen 
mama's turn off of hustlas and killas, my last supper probably gonna be 
wit fiends an dealers. Ughhhh!

Chorus x3

(Master P talking during chorus)

C-Loc records, keep it real, for all the records, keep it real Loc the 
whole south, to the east, to the west, to the middle, huh, we gonna keep 
it real though, keep it real Loc.