8 Mile movie - My Nigga for Real lyrics
rate me<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)<br>
<br>
