The Real Pablo by The Farrow Lyrics
The Farrow - The Real Pablo (prod. Thomas Crager)
[Intro]
Best rapper alive
That might be a bold statement But fuck it, I meant it
[Verse 1]
I just had a late night
My Day 1 nigga wanna know if I can facetime
He said “I watch your snapchats man but tell me what your day’s like” So I told him, well
I just wake up then I hit the studio with all my timberwolves
I feel like Ricky Rubio, yeah
Then I get a couple blondes to roll up blunts
I guess it’s really who you know
But I don’t know, yeah
Then I’ll prolly do a photo shoot
Wanna take a shot or two but be like man it’s only 2
Post that shit on Instagram
She said “I’m your biggest fan”
I said “Really? Damn. But you only seen a show or two.”
It’s all that fake love
From all these phonies who hardly know me
And I don’t know, one day I’m prolly gon’ say some’
Until then, I’ll keep sending ‘em the heart emoji
And I’m really glad you hit me up
Lately I been doing drugs just to have a pick-me-up
I might hit a mumble rappers girl and tell her pick me up
Xany rappin’ over Zaytoven’s potion just ain’t enough
[Chorus]
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
[Verse 2]
Hands up, hands up
Hands up, hands up, hands up
Hands up hands up
Hands up, hands up, hands up
Hands up, don’t shoot, the cops tryna kill us
A rack for a bullet wound, Doc tryna bill us
Letters from collector getting stacked to the ceiling
And if you move up, you get harassed where you living Now all your neighbors ain’t racist but they still hate though Drive a nice car and wanna know who you play for
From pickin’ cotton to milly rockin’ we came far
But they still own the rights to every word you sayin’ dog
So how is it that someone who’s so distant
Created they whole business off signing these broke niggas Like this ain’t a slave auction and labels don’t own niggas But niggas with no visions are tying the ropes with ‘em
I’m gone
[Chorus]
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
[Intro]
Best rapper alive
That might be a bold statement But fuck it, I meant it
[Verse 1]
I just had a late night
My Day 1 nigga wanna know if I can facetime
He said “I watch your snapchats man but tell me what your day’s like” So I told him, well
I just wake up then I hit the studio with all my timberwolves
I feel like Ricky Rubio, yeah
Then I get a couple blondes to roll up blunts
I guess it’s really who you know
But I don’t know, yeah
Then I’ll prolly do a photo shoot
Wanna take a shot or two but be like man it’s only 2
Post that shit on Instagram
She said “I’m your biggest fan”
I said “Really? Damn. But you only seen a show or two.”
It’s all that fake love
From all these phonies who hardly know me
And I don’t know, one day I’m prolly gon’ say some’
Until then, I’ll keep sending ‘em the heart emoji
And I’m really glad you hit me up
Lately I been doing drugs just to have a pick-me-up
I might hit a mumble rappers girl and tell her pick me up
Xany rappin’ over Zaytoven’s potion just ain’t enough
[Chorus]
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
[Verse 2]
Hands up, hands up
Hands up, hands up, hands up
Hands up hands up
Hands up, hands up, hands up
Hands up, don’t shoot, the cops tryna kill us
A rack for a bullet wound, Doc tryna bill us
Letters from collector getting stacked to the ceiling
And if you move up, you get harassed where you living Now all your neighbors ain’t racist but they still hate though Drive a nice car and wanna know who you play for
From pickin’ cotton to milly rockin’ we came far
But they still own the rights to every word you sayin’ dog
So how is it that someone who’s so distant
Created they whole business off signing these broke niggas Like this ain’t a slave auction and labels don’t own niggas But niggas with no visions are tying the ropes with ‘em
I’m gone
[Chorus]
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone
I feel like the real Pablo
I gotta turn up the track to conceal that flow I might just click-clack and let that go
I might just (gun sound) and let that blow I’m gone