Yung Booke, T.I., Killer Mike ft. Skooly - The Real A (WHTA) Lyrics

(What happened to Atlanta)

You remember 9th Ward ran the city?
Pull up with that shit
I did a song with every nigga that's bigger than a bitch out here
Doug High, big dreams, Magic City, 16
YMM, MDC (what?)
Thomasville, ABG (what?)

Hold up let me intervene (hold on)
Got my jeans from 30 Deep
Money Savage smashed the city, can't say you ain't heard of me
I'm talking PSC vs DTP, D4L vs DFB
New Orleans boys had came out and set up shop until they made 'em leave

All that money I was getting with Rich Kids I'm still getting the bag
For all them shoot outs happened walking out of figure 8
The speculations 'bout the city, we gon' get 'em straight
Metro Church saved me and my grandma stayed on Section 8

What happened to Atlanta?
We went from repping zones to color of bandanas
Tryna stay clean, but the streets dirty like Diana (they is)
They laughed at how we talk then ran off with the gramma
I'm from Atlanta
But damn, I miss the real A
Talking 'bout when Atlanta Hawks, they had Dikembe
Turner Field with tomahawks, yeah, them the real Braves
Bitches showing ass and titties to get the rent paid
I miss the real A

I remember when Atlanta was just itty bitty (this ain't the real A)
In '88, Miami boys came tried to take the city
They had to wait, their price was great but Techwood wasn't with it
They bought they MAC-10s out of East Atlanta went Osama
They killed them Florida boys and baby mamas, bloody summer
It was major drama, word to my dope dealing mama
Before they called us trappas they would simply call us rollas
And we had rockas for yo' socks and boulders for yo' shouldas
And we was taught if you see police then you yizell twizelve
And shut the fizup if you get caught then don't fuckin tizell
My partna went to jizail came back knew the alto shuffle
Somebody tried him, beat the stuffing out that out of towner
That boy ride and know how to hide that 4-5 beside him
Like Dominique we keep the baddest freaks like Freaknik weekend
Atlanta, Georgia, you the shit and don't you dare forget
And don't you ever ride another nigga city dick
Atlanta, Bitch

(I miss the real A)

Hell nah, far from it
Remember Nikki's on Stewart Ave was star studded
Remember selling weed at 559 had them skimpy dime
Used to get off all my work even though they complained every time
Always had the gift of gab
Before Uber we'll hop out, take off on the gypsy cab
Hop the fence and hit the path
And we on and off of Marta in and out the projects
A simpler time 'fore I was introduced to Pyrex (I miss the real A)
Kilo Ali, Sammy Sam whatchu know 'bout that?
Diablo's ain't a damn shame we was inspired by that
Like Tupac shooting birds hanging out that BMW
Shot up two polices and beat it, that was the fucking truth
Spent my wonder years riding from Center Hill to Screaming Wheels (Bankhead)
First time at MBK seen a young nigga get shot and live (damn)
Yeah, Freaknik traffic Campbeltown that shit be cracking (uh)
You wear that Starter coat and them J's you just betta not be lackin'
Now I can't tell if it's the switchas on the outta towners
A youngin' mixing X and Adderall with all them downers
I remember we had a code of conduct and a ecosystem
Taking the time to tell old Atlanta we really miss 'em

What happened to Atlanta?
We went from repping zones to color of bandanas
Tryna stay clean, but the streets dirty like Diana (they is)
They laughed at how we talk then ran off with the gramma
I'm from Atlanta
But damn, I miss the real A
Talking 'bout when Atlanta Hawks, they had Dikembe
Turner Field with tomahawks, yeah, them the real Braves
Bitches showing ass and titties to get the rent paid
I miss the real A
This ain't the real A