Young Jeezy - The Realist lyrics

[Young Jeezy: Talking] Ride on these n***az I ride on these n***az I ride on these n***az (hahaaa) I ride on these n***az Let's get it! [Verse 1: Young Jeezy] Super charger, the same color as PJ (yeaaaaah) I got a champagne range Big n***az offed, I got a night-scope aim (Bah) Audio, video, you caught on tape That's a way to get ya a** 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 n***a You know, you feelin' ya heart fall into ya feet Summertime n***az still ridin' with the heat Jeezy De Niro, Snowman Pacino Real n***az love me because I talk that lingo [Hook: Young Jeezy] And I'm the muhf**in' bi-nuss... They lies, they phonies, they fakes, These n***az ain't never sold the weight And I'm the muhf**in' bi-nuss... They lies, they phonies, they fakes, These n***az ain't never sold the weight And I'm the muhf**in' bi-nuss... They lies, they phonies, they fakes, These n***az ain't never touched the weight And I'm the muhf**in' bi-nuss... They lies, they phonies, they fakes, These n***az ain't never touched the weight And I'm the muhf**in' bi-nuss... [Verse 2: Young Jeezy] Nowadayz the GT's glock black (cheaaa!) The shoes on that muhf**a 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 n***a paranoid, I still sleep the same You n***az rappin' 'bout blow, like it's a fad n***a 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 n***a sold out You n***az playin', I show you what that street sh** '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'-a** n***az ain't never sold no yams I'm talkin' s**a-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]