That`s My Nigga Fo` Real

[Young Zee]<br>Uh, Zee<br>I got waiting haze, my customers ho`s, sleep with me<br>We have small beef, I still sell them O`s for three fifty<br>They know in big beef, I pop a hundred times<br>Be like roadkill, I live nigga`s brains on one and nines<br>And my down bitches, they be ready to kill<br>I be like chill, they be like..<br><br>[Chorus]<br>That`s my nigga for real (Yea, uh huh, I`m from the Bricks, we be like)<br>That`s my nigga for real (Yea, Young Zee, all my niggas from the hood, they be like)<br>That`s my nigga for real (Yea, B-Boy, you my nigga, talk to `em)<br><br>[B-Boy]<br>Yo, I don`t give a fuck if we don`t sell a record<br>We still gon` get this money in the Bricks<br>Spill it, Zee<br><br>[Young Zee]<br>Yea, uh, yea, yea<br>I`m like, Santa Claus, I deliver niggas grams a raw<br>Straight from Panama, fiends eat it up like canavaugh<br>And my dimes disappear like magic wands<br>I sell `em, `til the crack of dawn and destroy every track I`m on<br>Plus I have a clam packed in the back of vans<br>More royal than the Taliban murk you for a half a gram<br>(What?) I get B-Boy to drop your truck in the river<br>Fuck some dough, we be like..<br><br>[Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]<br><br>[Young Zee]<br>Yea, jeah, Uh-huh-ha, yea<br>Scarecrow (what?), I`m trying to walk before I crawl<br>I want it all ever since I came out of my mama`s walls<br>I`m trying to make so much dough when I write a song<br>I can write `em all why y`all clique on the corner selling final calls<br>Yea, niggas mad at us, gladiators like Maximas, we fabulous<br>While you fall off like Canibus`s managers<br>My man Dee U, keep the nina peelin`<br>(Point `em out, and watch me)<br><br>[Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]<br><br>[Young Zee]<br>Zee need Buddha, E-user, beef pre Lugers<br>Spittin` from our PT cruisers<br>My tape don`t drop, I still got dough to make<br>Got little niggas on roller skates holding my coke and weight<br>Blow paper, ho chaser, dough raiser, Joe Fraizer<br>Sixteen cellys and four pagers<br>Go hype up your squad that they might fuck with ours<br>I just, light up cigars, go by bikes, trucks, and cars<br>I got (?) In Atlanta deep, `round the street, ten grand a week<br>I give `em one word to put your man to sleep<br>And I love my Jersey live bitches<br>They`ll leave a nigga face, with thirty five stitches<br>They`ll help my tie cinder blocks and push your kids<br>So deep in the ocean, they`ll see where octopuses live<br>Jeah, this label deal is for Raz, Pace, and Chill<br>I know mad chicks, but still<br><br>[Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]<br><br> [Young Zee]<br>What, Bricks (Bricks, Bricks)