My Nigga Fo Real Lyric 8 Mile 8 MILE SOUNDTRACK

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)


 

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