Young Zee Lyrics

Album: Unknown

That's My Nigga Fo' Real Lyrics

[Young Zee]

 Uh, Zee

 I got waiting haze, my customers ho's, sleep with me

 We have small beef, I still sell them O's for three fifty

 They know in big beef, I pop a hundred times

 Be like roadkill, I live nigga's brains on one and nines

 And my down bitches, they be ready to kill

 I be like chill, they be like..

 

 [Chorus]

 That's my nigga for real (Yea, uh huh, I'm from the Bricks, we be like)

 That's my nigga for real (Yea, Young Zee, all my niggas from the hood, they be like)

 That's my nigga for real (Yea, B-Boy, you my nigga, talk to 'em)

 

 [B-Boy]

 Yo, I don't give a fuck if we don't sell a record

 We still gon' get this money in the Bricks

 Spill it, Zee

 

 [Young Zee]

 Yea, uh, yea, yea

 I'm like, Santa Claus, I deliver niggas grams a raw

 Straight from Panama, fiends eat it up like canavaugh

 And my dimes disappear like magic wands

 I sell 'em, 'til the crack of dawn and destroy every track I'm on

 Plus I have a clam packed in the back of vans

 More royal than the Taliban murk you for a half a gram

 (What?) I get B-Boy to drop your truck in the river

 Fuck some dough, we be like..

 

 [Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]

 

 [Young Zee]

 Yea, jeah, Uh-huh-ha, yea

 Scarecrow (what?), I'm trying to walk before I crawl

 I want it all ever since I came out of my mama's walls

 I'm trying to make so much dough when I write a song

 I can write 'em all why y'all clique on the corner selling final calls

 Yea, niggas mad at us, gladiators like Maximas, we fabulous

 While you fall off like Canibus's managers

 My man Dee U, keep the nina peelin'

 (Point 'em out, and watch me)

 

 [Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]

 

 [Young Zee]

 Zee need Buddha, E-user, beef pre Lugers

 Spittin' from our PT cruisers

 My tape don't drop, I still got dough to make

 Got little niggas on roller skates holding my coke and weight

 Blow paper, ho chaser, dough raiser, Joe Fraizer

 Sixteen cellys and four pagers

 Go hype up your squad that they might fuck with ours

 I just, light up cigars, go by bikes, trucks, and cars

 I got (?) In Atlanta deep, 'round the street, ten grand a week

 I give 'em one word to put your man to sleep

 And I love my Jersey live bitches

 They'll leave a nigga face, with thirty five stitches

 They'll help my tie cinder blocks and push your kids

 So deep in the ocean, they'll see where octopuses live

 Jeah, this label deal is for Raz, Pace, and Chill

 I know mad chicks, but still

 

 [Chorus + Young Zee ad libs]

 

 [Young Zee]

 What, Bricks (Bricks, Bricks)