Ugh, zee

I got wakin' haze, my customers hoes sleep with me
We have small beef, I still sell em o's for three fifty
They known when big beef, I'll pop a hundred times
They like road kill, I live niggas brains on one eighty nine
And my down bitches, they be ready to kill
I be like chill, they be like "that's my nigga fo' real"

That's my nigga fo' real
I'm from the bricks
That's my nigga fo' real
Young Zee is smack all my niggas in the hood they be like
That's my nigga fo' real
B-Boy you my nigga yeah talk to 'em

I don't give a fuck if we don't sell a record
We still gunna get this money in the bricks
Spill it Zee

I'm like Santa clause, I deliver niggas grams raw
Straight from panama, they eat it up like Hannibal
And my dons, they appear like magic wands
I sell em to the crack of dawn, and destroy every track I'm on
Plus I have a clan packed in the back of vans
More raw than the Taliban, murk you for a half a gram
I get B-boy a truck, yo truck in the river
Fuck some doe, he be like "that's my nigga fo' real"

(various phrases interspaced)
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Scarecrow what, I'm trying to walk before I crawl
I want it all, ever since I came outta my mommas walls
I'm trying to make so much doe when I write a song
I can Vite em all, while y'all click on the corner selling final calls
Niggas mad at us, gladiators like maximus
We Fabolous, while you fall off like cannabis's managers
My manDd, you keep the Nina Pillin
Zee, point a mine and watch em soak em like Sarina Williams

(various phrases interspaced)
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Zee need Buddha, E user
Be free lookers spittin' from our PT cruisers
My tank don't drop, I still got doe to make
Got little niggas on roller skates, holdin' my coke and weight
Blow paper, hole chaser, doe raiser, Joe Frasier
Sixteen celly's and four pagers
Go hype up your squad that they might fuck with ours
I just light up cigars, go buy bikes, trucks and cars
Got axe n nitty in Atlanta deep
Ran the street, ten grand a week
I got one word, don't put ya man to sleep
And I love my jersey live bitches
They leave a nigga's, face with thirty five stitches
They'll help me, cinder blocks and pushin' kids so deep in the oceans
They see where octopuses live
This label deal is for raws pacin' chill
I know mad heads, but still

(various phrases interspaced)
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Yeah what

Bricks