Young Jeezy

Young Jeezy - The Realist lyrics

Ride on these niggaz

I ride on these niggaz

I ride on these niggaz (hahaaa)

I ride on these niggaz

Let's get it!

Super charger, the same color as PJ

(yeaaaaah) I got a champagne range

Pick niggaz off, 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

And I'm the muhfuckin' realist...

They lies, they phonies, they fakes,

These niggaz ain't never sold the weight

And I'm the muhfuckin' realist...

They lies, they phonies, they fakes,

These niggaz ain't never sold the weight

And I'm the muhfuckin' realist...

They lies, they phonies, they fakes,

These niggaz ain't never touched the weight

And I'm the muhfuckin' realist...

They lies, they phonies, they fakes,

These niggaz ain't never touched the weight

And I'm the muhfuckin' realist...

Nowadays the GT's glock black (cheaaa!)

The shoes on that motherfucking 3-80 chrome

Gotta be careful what you say on the phone

I'm 36 O's away

From givin' the mic up and goin' back to the streets (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

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

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