Really Doe – A Vivid Dissection of Street Cred, Struggle, and Success


You can view the lyrics, alternate interprations and sheet music for Danny Brown's Really Doe at Lyrics.org.
Article Contents:
  1. Music Video
  2. Lyrics
  3. Song Meaning
  4. A Muse on Street Savvy and the Illusion of Success
  5. Masquerading Materialism versus Hollow Achievements
  6. Uncloaking the Hidden Narrative: A Critique of Disloyalty and Faux Affections
  7. Memorable Lines: A Showcase of Wit and Wordplay
  8. The Anthem of Self-Determination and the Reclamation of Power

Lyrics

You niggas don’t even know
All that talk then no show
Cannot tell me nothin’
Show me somethin’ I ain’t seen before
That hoe want my piccolo
Smoking on that mistletoe
Make her kiss all on it while we cha-cha, but on 24’s
She look like a centerfold
Mouth all on my genitals
Suckin’ on it like she gettin’ vitamins and minerals
I be on the chemicals, she be on my testicles
Poke her with my tentacle then put her on my schedule
Rolling up them vegetables
Rapping with that special flow
Only way you’re next to blow if you be strapped with C4
I be fresh from head to toe, every day a fashion show
Used to tote that Calico and serve like John McEnroe
Now I sell out all my shows
Used to sell out all my blow
That was back when we was coppin’ dubs to try and roll a 4
Now a nigga livin’ good
I done made it out the hood
Think I’m goin’ back?
I wish a motherfucker would

Yeah, they say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe
They say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe

Still wicked as Aleister Crowley, niggas know me well
For heaven’s sake, I’m the GOAT, you haters can go to hell
When you’re getting money, nigga, every day is sunny
I’ma act an ass on that donkey, let her pull my ponytail
Second grade, took my mama weddin’ ring, took that bitch
To show-and-tell, now I’m married to the game to no avail
Grounded me for like a month, now I’m gettin’ high as fuck
Employer tryna write me up, but now I’m a writer
With ambitions of a rider, and half the shit on my rider I don’t even want
The Fanta’s for us, the Henny’s for the sluts (chyeah)
Givenchy bikers with the Raf rips
Balmain badmon, Bathing Ape on my dick
Paid by the Bloods, raised by the Crips
Soulo Ho the prophecies, atrocities, exhibition
Oh yeah, now a nigga livin’ good
But good could be better I wish a motherfucker would

Yeah, they say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe
They say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe

Life is like an appetite of truth and dare, I double dare ya
Life can end in vain before the end is near
See I can hear you crying
Silence sittin’ in the dark
Holdin’ crosses ‘cross your heart
Sin is such a work of art
Watch out for the love lost
Bet a thousand, shoot a thousand
Things a nigga do for thousands
Made a million counting sheep
Gave it all to public housin’
Taking off to Abu Dhabi
Beamin’ up the motor, Scotty
Talking to promoters, Scotty
Everybody know it’s Gotti
Murder one, you’ve heard of them
The Revenant, the all day madness
Got it off to wipe it off, the evidence, the blood on mattress
Big power, big stages
My zoo cannot fit the cages
This booth is not used to fakin’
My crew just love confrontation
I chewed the face off the laces
I moved the weight from the waitress
I chef the pot that made poison
I cooked then tipped all the patients
My bitch is way beyond basic
That’s life insurance, car insurance, good pussy insurance
Aye, look what I ain’t doin’
Aye, ridin’ in foreigns
Aye, K-Dot, four years, I got the same watch
But it’s the real watch and that bitch fire
Speed Racer waitin’ outside
The roof on it like a tank top
Countin’ money, watchin’ paint dry
When I’m done is when the rain stops, uh

They say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe
They say I got the city on fire
I ain’t boomin’, that’s a goddamn lie, woah
Really doe, like really doe
Really doe, like really doe

Listen
I wish a motherfuckin’ would
Brown, I had to put my foot down
So I could pop in the clutch
Your hate palpable, your jaw full of dust
You gon’ keep talkin’ or are we lockin’ it up?
And I’m the type of nigga it ain’t never been an honor to judge
You a mouse that the falcon picked up
So disrespect and gettin’ checked like the top of the month
I was a liar as a kid so now I’m honest as fuck
And I never passed my mama no blunt, it kept my head straight
Less than deadweight, never been a problem to dump
Look, I just broke up with my bitch cause we ain’t argue enough
I keep it dirty as the spliffs my uncle Alchemist puff
I strike a birdie on ’em, while I hit your mouth with the club
I wake up early on ’em, gettin’ out the house is a must
It’s like a sweaty pit, sweaty sit, countin’ your dubs
Either that or you gon’ catch me on a mountain with monks
Loungin’, ask your girl why her mouth on my nuts
You’ve been the same motherfucker since 2001
Well it’s the left-handed shooter, Kyle Lowry the pump
I’m at your house like, “why you got your couch on my Chucks”
Motherfucker

Full Lyrics

Danny Brown’s ‘Really Doe’ doesn’t merely oscillate on the axis of a catchy hook; it’s a gritty narrative embroidered in the tapestry of street legacy, self-determination, and the stark realties of success. Anchored by the Detroit rapper’s unmistakable voice and flow, ‘Really Doe’ serves as a testimony, as well as a challenge, to the authenticity and grit of the artist’s journey through the mud of the music industry.

The track, featuring a star-studded lineup of Kendrick Lamar, Ab-Soul, and Earl Sweatshirt, acts as a conduit for exploring themes of credibility, survival, and the reckoning of past demons with present triumphs. As we delve into the lyrics, we notice a nuanced defiance against societal expectation and a relentless affirmation of self-worth.

A Muse on Street Savvy and the Illusion of Success

Brown’s chronicle begins with a dismissal of those who talk a big game but fail to deliver (‘All that talk then no show’). The lyrics unfurl as a testament to the gritty survivalist mentality necessary to transcend a life engulfed in hustle and illicit activity. His references to a past laden with struggles (‘Used to sell out all my blow’) juxtapose sharply against the luxurious reality he has fought to attain (‘Now a nigga livin’ good’).

Within these bars, the song confronts the duality of street life and the facade of what it means to truly ‘make it.’ Is success merely the transition from one form of grind (‘Used to tote that Calico’) to another (selling out shows)? Brown invites listeners to question the authenticity of those claiming to hold the city’s reins, while simultaneously questioning the value and veracity of their proclaimed victories.

Masquerading Materialism versus Hollow Achievements

In a rap world replete with boasts about material possessions and shallow conquests, Brown brutally asserts the superficiality of these claims. Dripping in designer names and lavishness (‘Givenchy bikers with the Raf rips’), the lyrics reflect a cultural obsession with appearance and the masks worn to assert dominance and desirability.

Yet, beneath the veneer of luxury, there’s a whisper of discontent (‘But good could be better I wish a motherfucker would’). The rapper alludes to an inescapable thirst for more—a discontentment that neither flashy cars (‘Beamin’ up the motor, Scotty’) nor high fashion can quench. This inner conflict forces listeners to reevaluate their own measures of success and satisfaction.

Uncloaking the Hidden Narrative: A Critique of Disloyalty and Faux Affections

Brown’s articulation strips down the core of human desires and confronts the fickleness of relationships forged in the fire of fame (‘That hoe want my piccolo’). Intimacy becomes transactional, as people jockey for his attention, hoping to gain a piece of his ascended status.

He unravels the inherently treacherous nature of such alliances, where loyalty is often only as deep as the pockets (‘Paid by the Bloods, raised by the Crips’). His stark, upfront language frames a narrative where trust is as much a currency as dollar bills, presciently highlighting the perils of success amid the phantasm of true allegiance.

Memorable Lines: A Showcase of Wit and Wordplay

Danny Brown’s linguistic craft unfolds in clever wordplay and hard-hitting imagery (‘Like an appetite of truth and dare’). The bravado and sarcasm woven into each line (‘I wish a motherfucker would’) serve both as a self-affirmation and a dare to those who underestimate his resolve and prowess.

Brown casually drops pop culture references (‘The Revenant, the all day madness’) alongside a vivid, almost cinematic description of his rise (‘Countin’ money, watchin’ paint dry’). These lines, stitched with metaphoric ingenuity and a raw sense of humor, elicit both a nod of appreciation and a contemplative pause.

The Anthem of Self-Determination and the Reclamation of Power

Amid the revelry of self-aggrandizement and the critique of artifice, ‘Really Doe’ emerges defiantly as an ode to self-determination. It is a call to arms for those who have toiled, undeterred by derision or deceit (‘Less than deadweight, never been a problem to dump’).

Brown’s evolution from a checkered past to a reclaiming of his creative and personal agency (‘Now I’m a writer with ambitions of a rider’) is more than a tale of triumph; it’s a brawny declaration of autonomy. His work, no longer subject to validation by the masses or the industry, is an unapologetic roar from a man standing atop his own mountain.

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