[Verse 1: Young Zee]

Uh, Zee

I cop weight in haze, my customers' hoes 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 leave niggas' brains on 1 and 9

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)

[Interlude: 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

[Verse 2: Young Zee]

Yea, uh, yea, yea

I'm like, Santa Claus, I deliver niggas grams of raw

Straight from Panama, fiends eat it up like canni-bal

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'll get B-Boy to drop your truck in the river

Fuck some dough, he'd be like..

[Chorus + Young Zee ad-libs and shout-outs]

[Verse 3: Young Zee, (D.U.)]

Yea, gyeah, uh-huh-huh, 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 buy the mall, while y'all clique on the corner selling 'Final Call's

Yea, niggas mad at us, gladiators like Maximas, we fabulous

While you fall off like Canibus's managers

My man D.U., keep the nina peelin'

(Zee, point 'em out, and watch me serve 'em like Serena Williams)

[Chorus + Young Zee ad-libs and shout-outs]

[Verse 4: Young Zee]

Zee need Buddha, E-user

Beef, pre-Lugers spittin' from out 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 (Boop-boop-boop-boop...)

Go hype up your squad that they might fuck with ours

I just–light up cigars, go buy bikes, trucks, and cars (C'mon)

Got Axe and Knitty in Atlantic, deep

Ran the street, ten grand a week

I give 'em one word, they'll 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

Gyeah, this label deal is for Roz, Pace, and Chill

I know mad heads, but still –

[Chorus+ Young Zee ad libs]

[Outro: Young Zee]

What, Bricks (Bricks, Bricks)