This is a song about "My homies are real"

Now me and my homies got the keys to the nation

I compliment you with your conversation

And daddy's in the cadillac

Or knowing that my homies got my back

Those words are real not crack,

Where the black girls get their weaves back

But wouldn't be the topic of my few friends talking

Waiting on my homies as they do their thing

Gangstas as real me are uncommon, around here carrying my 12 gauge shotgun,

Blind to a broken man's dream, a hard lessoncourt cases keep me guessin', plea bargain

And goin' half on a motherfuckin' hundred sack

I spit that real hip hop, youd think my lips are black

Lost my nigga over nothing though

My homies in the back screaming "b.i.n.g.o

It's no drought were i be, bitch no police, here's fire wings

So i took me and my homies and went on some reconnaissance/