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letra de that's my nigga fo real - eminem

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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 n-gg-‘s brains on one and nines
and my down b-tches, they be ready to kill
i be like chill, they be like

that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, uh huh, i’m from the bricks, we be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, young zee, all my n-gg-s from the hood, they be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, b-boy, you my n-gg-, talk to ’em)

yo, i don’t give a f-ck if we don’t sell a record
we still gon’ get this money in the bricks
spill it, zee

yeah, uh, yeah, yeah
i’m like santa claus, i deliver n-gg-s 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
f-ck some dough, we be like

that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, uh huh, i’m from the bricks, we be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, young zee, all my n-gg-s from the hood, they be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, b-boy, you my n-gg-, talk to ’em)

yeah, jeah, uh-huh-ha, yeah
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
yeah, n-gg-s 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)

that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, uh huh, i’m from the bricks, we be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, young zee, all my n-gg-s from the hood, they be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, b-boy, you my n-gg-, 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 n-gg-s on roller skates holding my c-ke and weight
blow paper, ho chaser, dough raiser, joe fraizer
sixteen cellys and four pagers

go hype up your squad that they might f-ck with ours
i just light up cigars, go by bikes, trucks and cars
i got (unverified) 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 b-tches
they’ll leave a n-gg- face with thirty five st-tches
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 n-gg- for real
(yeah, uh huh, i’m from the bricks, we be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, young zee, all my n-gg-s from the hood, they be like)
that’s my n-gg- for real
(yeah, b-boy, you my n-gg-, talk to ’em)

what, bricks
(bricks, bricks)

- eminem

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