All I Need Lyrics | Kanye West

Niggas can’t be serious, man
Yo, yo

[Kanye West]
Yo I’m the reason metal detectors go off the meter
‘Cause I’ll run through the airport with the heater
Gets the fag at his plane, and if I miss him
Put two in his brain at the baggage claim
Give him… heavy sluggage, tryna get his luggage
Send him to the crossroads, we way too thuggish
Shit, we at odds ’til we even up
‘Til you leave on a stretcher or I leave in cuffs
Niggas wanna live, they done breathed enough
And I bet you next time they’ll believe in us
It don’t take much brains to know we bust things
My gat must bang, through your Mustang
Ma ma se, ma ma sa, ma ma ku sa
Niggas seen Kanye, red dotted them
Hurry up, stash the guns, the cops gon’ come
And we gon’ say we don’t know who shot at ’em
Come on

All I have is my real niggas (what?)
Get this cash with my real niggas (come on)
Give my last to my real niggas
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas
All I have is my real niggas
Get this cash with my real niggas (come on)
Give my last to my real niggas (come on)
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas

[Cristina]
Y’all niggas ready for war? I’m ready
Easy with the clip, girl, hold it steady
Man I’m ’bout to squeeze back, cock and bust hot lyrics
Cock back, pop, and touch y’all spirits
Send ’em to hell, make their residence more evil
This beat here make me wanna kill four people
Three niggas and one hoe, turn bitches to Jane Doe
Send ’em past rainbows, with the ankles
Hit ’em from all angles, bring the pain though
Blow out the candles, the show’s been cancelled
Man, y’all niggas better believe somethin’
‘Fore I squeeze somethin’ and leave somethin’
It ain’t nothin’ with my real niggas

All I have is my real niggas
Get this cash with my real niggas (that’s right)
Give my last to my real niggas (come on)
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas
All I have is my real niggas
Get this cash with my real niggas (come on)
Give my last to my real niggas (come on)
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas

I feel like one lady, five babies and four fathers
Six months searchin’ for jobs and no offers
No heat ‘cept for the stove
Sleep with two layers of clothes, still wakin’ up cold
I’m real, like AIDS
Like the pain you feel when your nigga get strained
That’s why I got issues like I got pistols
I gotta make your mama cry but I got tissues
I confess, I’m a gangsta
But I drop my flag, still cock back and drop a fag
Leave him in a bag with a tag on his metatarsals
Awfully ill, man, awfully real
Thugged out, but I’m God’s property still
And if I up the steel, I’ma probably kill
If not, you’re paralyzed from the waist down
Alright dog, you’re the king? I’m the ace now
Face down

All I have is my real niggas (you know)
Get this cash with my real niggas
Give my last to my real niggas (that’s right)
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas (for my real niggas)
All I have is my real niggas (that’s all I have in this world)
Get this cash with my real niggas
Give my last to my real niggas (Konman Productions)
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas (Brian All Day Miller, come on)

All I have is my real niggas (that’s right)
Get this cash with my real niggas
Give my last to my real niggas
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas
All I have is my real niggas
Get this cash with my real niggas
Give my last to my real niggas
Cock back, blast, for my real niggas