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Текст песни Young Jeezy - The Realist

Young Jeezy - The Realist слова песни


Ride on these niggaz
I ride on these niggaz
I ride on these niggaz (hahaaa)
I ride on these niggaz

Let`s get it!

[Verse 1: Young Jeezy]

Super charger, the same color as PJ
(yeaaaaah) I got a champagne range
Big niggaz offed, I got a night-scope aim (Bah)
Audio, video, you caught on tape
That`s a way to get ya ass sent Upstate (dayyyum)
In `9-AY! I took them trips down to Lauderdale
Back and forth, like Aliyah
Chances of gettin` rich is like one-in-a-million
(hahaaaaa) Or more like two-in-a-billion
Flashin` lights, my mind`s playin` tricks on me
But the Minuteman still do tricks on me
Swear the feds just starin` at a nigga
You know, you feelin` ya heart fall into ya feet
Summertime niggaz still ridin` with the heat
Jeezy De Niro, Snowman Pacino
Real niggaz love me because I talk that lingo

[Hook: Young Jeezy]

And I`m the muhfuckin` bi-nuss...
They lies, they phonies, they fakes,
These niggaz ain`t never sold the weight
And I`m the muhfuckin` bi-nuss...
They lies, they phonies, they fakes,
These niggaz ain`t never sold the weight
And I`m the muhfuckin` bi-nuss...
They lies, they phonies, they fakes,
These niggaz ain`t never touched the weight
And I`m the muhfuckin` bi-nuss...
They lies, they phonies, they fakes,
These niggaz ain`t never touched the weight
And I`m the muhfuckin` bi-nuss...

[Verse 2: Young Jeezy]

Nowadayz the GT`s glock black (cheaaa!)
The shoes on that muhfucka 3-80 chrome
Gotta be careful what you say on the phone
I`m 36 souls away
From givin` the mic up and goin` back to the streetz (naww)
What`s the difference, I still eat the same
A nigga paranoid, I still sleep the same
You niggaz rappin` `bout blow, like it`s a fad
Nigga this is my life, I ain`t tryna set trends
`Cause everybody knows how that brick-road ends
Heartless, maybe I need to see the Wizard
Until then, Imma make it snow blizzards

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Young Jeezy]

I stay on the block, and risk my life
Day in and day out until a nigga sold out
You niggaz playin`, I show you what that street shit `bout
Hit you right up with them thangs, and come back with the chains
Might cook it in the stove, might cook it in the microwave
Either way it`s gonna sell, still weigh it on the scale
You rappin`-ass niggaz ain`t never sold no yams
I`m talkin` sucka-free Sundays and iced-out Mondays
Pin-up Tuesdays and body-tap Wednesdays
You was in the studio, I was on the block
In the kitchen at the spot goin` hard with the blocks
25 for the four ways, choppaz by the door-ways

[Hook]

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