Featuring: IllAudio

Songwriter: Akala

Will you you talk about being from the hood, like we're glad
Wear it proud, like it's a badge
But I'll be damned if, when I'm a dad my kids don't have more than I had
Please don't confuse your situation, with identity, it's not the same thing
You were pharaohs and scholars, long before the day you were armed robbers
But, whatever, it's dumb to be clever, better to act like your brains been severed
Like these Americans so called “artists” boasting about their latest garments
But the same labels make it very clear, they don't make clothes for dark skin
Can't you see they're laughing? The question that I'm asking

Real
Is it real, really?
Now is it real really?

Real
Is it real, really? (Is it real really?)
I doubt it's real really

Real
Is it real, really? (dolla dolla bill y'all)
Now is it real really?

Real
Is it real, really?
I doubt it's real really. (uh, get money)

Pop champagne got my chain, act like you got no brain
Pop champagne got my chain, act like you got no brain
Pop champagne got your chain, act like you got no brain!
Come on let's pop champagne!
Come on let's pop champagne!

Sorry, if I don't dance enough for the radio to play my stuff
And got no girls in the video playing the city ho loco shakin' their butts
I thought that rap was about content, I see now that's just nonsense
We judge MC's by the Bentleys, and how much they can have no conscience
How many chains can you wear, and not care, the cost was a village somewhere
Stones of begets, slowly forget, this ain't the first time there were chains on your neck
It was much worse, choose to accept, but now vexed, just perplexed
Of course that's all us people do all day, is pop champagne and have sex!
Why am I lying, I can't stand it, Chip on my shoulders the size of a planet!
I organic on the mike and the flames I will fan it
To burn down the galaxy I'm up to the challenge
Burn down the fallacy, scorch it with talent
Burn down the anarchy, restore the balance
I am the war with New York to Paris
No fun now around me, I'm far too savage
Yeah, hittin with knowledge, 'cuz we import it, ignoramus
You're playin' the stereotype, so of course you're famous
If for just one second you took your head from out your anus
You would see the motivation for your elevation

What is real?
Is it how much you make in the dollar bills?
What is real?
Is it how many you say you're gonna kill?
What is real?
Or is it something that I can truly feel?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?

What is real?
Is it how much you make in the dollar bills?
What is real?
Is it how many you say you're gonna kill?
What is real?
Or is it something that I can truly feel?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?

Still, I got love for you, though it's very clear that you hate yourself
I'm just saying don't food for the crap, being from the ghetto don't make you more black
Also the fact: this is bigger than the color of your skin
It's a matter that we're all in
Dumber you act, the bigger the cheer
The bigger the fool, the bigger career
It's about playing a role, the educated can't be controlled
It's about playing a role, the educated can't be controlled
So by keeping yourself dumb, keeping yourself under the thumb
By keeping yourself dumb, keeping yourself under the thumb
(Feeding your face on the foods that are?) dumb, keeping yourself eating the crumbs
Elevating some fool with a gun, keeping ourselves numb
So we can fit in in a world where the price of life is less than the cost of living
So we can fit in in a world where the price of life is less than the cost of living

Have you forgotten what is real?
Close your eyes and don't believe that all you see is all you feel

Got few tattoos, few bullet wounds? Silly songs? Deliver the tunes?
That tattoo may as well say coon, may as well grunt just like a baboon
That's what people see when they look at me, though they may applaud my stupidity
It's like sharks in a shark tank, watch them tear each other apart
Find the sharks entertaining, but that don't mean that we think they're smart
Or are for that matter, you maybe call yourself a rapper
Disrespect women, but, but you are the one who is a slapper
You get paid to degrade yourself, publicly castrate yourself

What is real?
Is it how much you make in the dollar bills?
What is real?
Is it how many you say you're gonna kill?
What is real?
Or is it something that I can truly feel?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?

What is real?
Is it how much you make in the dollar bills?
What is real?
Is it how many you say you're gonna kill?
What is real?
Or is it something that I can truly feel?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?

We all play our positions, convinced that we are so different
Accept these doctrines, and this nonsense, and we take these options
Without one second, never questioning just what the cost is
You're not a hater, you can't relate to the lowest denominator, dominator!
No, I don't wanna read the Source, I'd rather read some of Plato's thoughts
Of course, let us not ever forget, the place in which where he was taught
So if it ain't clear, none of these clown rappers could be my peers
It's philosophical, historical, speculations that I thought were rhetorical
Like what's real, is it my face if an atom is nothing but empty space?
Why the rock feel solid when I'm on it and a comet could collide with the Earth and dislodge it?
Or maybe sonnets, metaphoric, promises the tonic for all that (is chronic?)
Illness, apathy, ignorance tapestry that they weave to turn us into batteries

What is real?
What is real?
What is real?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?
Please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
What is real?

Have you forgotten what is real?
Close your eyes and don't believe that all you see is all you feel

Akala

Kingslee James Daley, better known by the stage name Akala, is an English rapper, poet and academic. Originally from Kentish Town, London, his older sister is rapper/vocalist Ms. Dynamite.