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LA LETRA DE LA CANCION MY NIGGA FOR REAL DE 8 MILE

 

 

La letra de la cancion My Nigga For Real de 8 Mile

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)

- Volver a las Canciones del Album Young Zee

- Volver a los Discos de 8 Mile

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