8 Mile My Nigga For Real Lyrics

My Nigga For Real Lyrics

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)