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Correct That's My N**** Fo Real Lyrics
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Young Zee
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Correct That's My N**** Fo Real
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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 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) 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 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 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) 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 you, keep the nina peelin' (Point 'em out, and watch me) 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) 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 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)
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