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 hunnid times
Be like roadkill, I leave niggas brains on one and nine
And my down bitches, they be ready to kill
I be like chill, they be like

That's my nigga fo' real (ah yeah, uh-huh-huh I'm from the Bricks, yeah, be like)
That's my nigga fo' real (yeah, Young Zee) (smack)
(All my niggas from the hood, they be like)
That's my nigga fo' real (yeah, B-Boy you my nigga, yeah, talk to 'em)

Yo, I don't give a fuck if we don't sell a record
We still gon' get this money in the Bricks (yeah, yeah)
Spill it Zee

I'm like Santa Claus, I deliver niggas grams a-raw
Straight from Panama, fiends eat it up like Hannibal
And my dimes, disappear 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 (what?)
I get B-Boy to drop yo truck in the river
Fuck some dough, we be like (that's my nigga)

That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Scarecrow (what?) I'm tryin' to walk before I crawl
I want it all, ever since I came outta my mommas walls
I'm tryin' to make so much dough when I write a song
I can write 'em all, while y'all click on the corner sellin' final calls (chyea)
Niggas mad at us, gladiators like Maximus
We Fabolous, while you fall off like Canibus's managers
My man Dee U, keep the nina peelin'
(Zee, point 'em out and watch me serve 'em like Serena Williams)

That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Zee need Buddha, E-user, beef pre Lugers
Spittin' from our PT cruisers
My tank don't drop, I still got dough to make
Got little niggas on roller skates holdin' my coke and weight
Blow paper, ho chaser, dough 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 and nitty in Atlanta deep
Ran the street, ten grand a week
I give 'em one word, they'll put your man to sleep
And I love my Jersey live bitches
They leave a nigga face with thirty-five stitches
They'll help me tie cinder blocks and push your kids
So deep in the ocean, they'll see where octopuses live (chyea)
This label deal is for Raz, Pace, and Chill
I know mad heads, but still, they're my niggas

That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real
That's my nigga fo' real

Yeah
what, Bricks

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Dante Ross, Dewayne Battle