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Keepin it real

Verse One: 2Pac

I take a shot of Henessee now I`m strong enough to face the madness

Nickel bag full of sess weed laced with hash

Phone calls from my niggaz on the, other side

Two childhood friends just died, I couldn`t cry

A damn shame, when will we ever change

And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brain

Arguements with my Boo is true

I spend mo` time with my niggaz than I do with you

But everywhere it`s the same thang, that`s the game

I`ll be damned if a thang changed, fuck the fame

I`ll be hustling to make a mill-ion, lord knows

Ain`t no love for us ghetto children, so we cold

Rag top slowin down, time to stop for gas

Beep my horn for a hoochie with a proper ass, uhh

It ain`t easy, that`s my motto

Drinkin Tanqueray straight out the bottle

Everybody wanna know if I`m insane

My baby mama gotta mind full of silly games

And all the drama got me stressin like I`m hopeless, I can`t cope

Me and the homies smokin roaches, cause we broke

Late night hangin out til the sunrise gettin high

Watchin the cops roll by

It ain`t easy... that`s right

Chorus: 2Pac

It ain`t easy, being me

Will I see the penitentiary, or will I stay free

(repeat 3X)

Verse Two: 2Pac

I can`t sleep niggaz plottin on to kill me while I`m dreamin

Wake up sweaty and screamin, cause I can hear them suckers schemin

Probably paranoid, problem is, them punks be fantasizin

A brother bite the bullet, open fire and I died

I wonder why this the way it is, even now

Lookin out for these killer kids, cause they wild

Bill Clinton can you recognize a nigga representin

Doin twenty to life in San Quentin

Gettin calls from my nigga Mike Tyson, ain`t nuttin nice

Yo `Pac, do something righteous witcha life

And even thou you innocent you still a nigga, so they figure

Rather have you behind bars than triggers

But I`m hold ya down and holla Thug Life, lickin shots

Til I see my niggaz free on the block

But no it ain`t easy, hahahah

Til I see my niggaz free, on the block, oh

It ain`t easy

Chorus 2.75

Verse Three: 2Pac

Lately been reminiscin

bout Peppermint Schnapps in Junior High hit the block

Keep an eye on the cops while D-Boys slang rocks

It`s the project kid without a conscience, I`m havin dreams

of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers

through the years tryin to stack a little green

I was only seventeen, when I started servin fiends

And I wish there was another way to stack a dollar

So my apoli`, casue these hard times make me wanna holler

Will I live to see tommorrow, am I fallin off?

I hit the weed and then proceed to say fuck all of y`all

Ain`t nobody down with me I`m thuggin, I can`t go home

Cause muh-fuckers think I`m buggin, so now I`m in

this high powered cell at the county jail

Punk judge got a grudge, can`t post no bail, what

do I do in these county blues

Gettin battered and bruised by the you know who

And these fakes get to shakin when they face me

Snakes ain`t got enough nuts to replace me

Sittin in this, livin hell, listenin to niggaz yell

Tryin to torture em to tell, I`m gettin mail

But ain`t nobody sayin much, the same old nuts

is makin bucks while these sluts is gettin fucked

They violated my probation, and it seems

I`ll be goin on a long vacation, meanwhile

It ain`t easy

No it ain`t easy

Chorus

Chorus

Keepin it real

Verse One: 2Pac

I take a shot of Henessee now I`m strong enough to face the madness

Nickel bag full of sess weed laced with hash

Phone calls from my niggaz on the, other side

Two childhood friends just died, I couldn`t cry

A damn shame, when will we ever change

And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brain

Arguements with my Boo is true

I spend mo` time with my niggaz than I do with you

But everywhere it`s the same thang, that`s the game

I`ll be damned if a thang changed, fuck the fame

I`ll be hustling to make a mill-ion, lord knows

Ain`t no love for us ghetto children, so we cold

Rag top slowin down, time to stop for gas

Beep my horn for a hoochie with a proper ass, uhh

It ain`t easy, that`s my motto

Drinkin Tanqueray straight out the bottle

Everybody wanna know if I`m insane

My baby mama gotta mind full of silly games

And all the drama got me stressin like I`m hopeless, I can`t cope

Me and the homies smokin roaches, cause we broke

Late night hangin out til the sunrise gettin high

Watchin the cops roll by

It ain`t easy... that`s right

Chorus: 2Pac

It ain`t easy, being me

Will I see the penitentiary, or will I stay free

(repeat 3X)

Verse Two: 2Pac

I can`t sleep niggaz plottin on to kill me while I`m dreamin

Wake up sweaty and screamin, cause I can hear them suckers schemin

Probably paranoid, problem is, them punks be fantasizin

A brother bite the bullet, open fire and I died

I wonder why this the way it is, even now

Lookin out for these killer kids, cause they wild

Bill Clinton can you recognize a nigga representin

Doin twenty to life in San Quentin

Gettin calls from my nigga Mike Tyson, ain`t nuttin nice

Yo `Pac, do something righteous witcha life

And even thou you innocent you still a nigga, so they figure

Rather have you behind bars than triggers

But I`m hold ya down and holla Thug Life, lickin shots

Til I see my niggaz free on the block

But no it ain`t easy, hahahah

Til I see my niggaz free, on the block, oh

It ain`t easy

Chorus 2.75

Verse Three: 2Pac

Lately been reminiscin

bout Peppermint Schnapps in Junior High hit the block

Keep an eye on the cops while D-Boys slang rocks

It`s the project kid without a conscience, I`m havin dreams

of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers

through the years tryin to stack a little green

I was only seventeen, when I started servin fiends

And I wish there was another way to stack a dollar

So my apoli`, casue these hard times make me wanna holler

Will I live to see tommorrow, am I fallin off?

I hit the weed and then proceed to say fuck all of y`all

Ain`t nobody down with me I`m thuggin, I can`t go home

Cause muh-fuckers think I`m buggin, so now I`m in

this high powered cell at the county jail

Punk judge got a grudge, can`t post no bail, what

do I do in these county blues

Gettin battered and bruised by the you know who

And these fakes get to shakin when they face me

Snakes ain`t got enough nuts to replace me

Sittin in this, livin hell, listenin to niggaz yell

Tryin to torture em to tell, I`m gettin mail

But ain`t nobody sayin much, the same old nuts

is makin bucks while these sluts is gettin fucked

They violated my probation, and it seems

I`ll be goin on a long vacation, meanwhile

It ain`t easy

No it ain`t easy

Chorus

Chorus

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