Lyrics Brick Licka - Mike-D, Mike D. & Clay Doe

Brick Licka

What what what what, we brick lickas nigga
Hide your motherfucking ki’s nigga
Cause I come to get em nigga, (Mike D nigga)
Who run the town down, gun the town down
Really out of town, shuffle bricks and pounds
You know nigga, who the fuck I be
Corleone nigga, the brick lick hitter
(who the fuck is you), Corleone the brick licka
(how you handle niggas), with a hot point sticker
(what you sipping on boy), straight bar no liquor
(well how you handle broads), I’m a true dick sticker
(what you flipping cat), Range fo' point sixer
(who you run with nigga), Clay-Doe the wig splitter
(who up in the crew), Young Duke the go-getter
(what camp you claiming), Laf-Tex nigga
I don’t know what make these hoes think, cause I stand out
I’m good for a hand out, and making they land rot
Motherfuckers must don’t know bout me, Boss got me on from that 3
Where my niggas gon bust with me, side by side let em fly with me
24/7 getting high with me, always smoking on the finest tree
Ain’t no limit like Master P, money in the bank like Jermaine Dupri
Hit a shot straight to his arteries, FED’s still waiting on the autopsy
Fucking with a nigga from 3-R-D, game and short to the Penitentiary
You niggas gay and elementary, and I damn if you hoes try to contradict me
Only real niggas gon stick with me, whether I’m broke or having money
Send him on a test like a crash dummy, fighting with vets and old top primey’s
All I ride and all I slide, on buck hide DVD’s inside
All you niggas the big 4−1, are fucking with a nigga like me
Like who cause I come to him nigga, Boss Hogg Corleone nigga
Got a thousand and one problems, and money still ain’t a thang
And I gamble my dope money, to get in this rap game
Now look at me now, scrambling C.E.O.
money
Taking notes and quotes, from all you industry crash dummies
Getting in where you fit in, like old hip hop bond
Been in the game for ten deep, and you still working with crumbs
That’s why I’m planted like concrete, to the fam' we been in
I don’t need no new niggas around me, new millions only
Front line, niggas that don’t mind niggas
Out of town niggas, that love to find niggas
In a berry wine Bentley, dranked out on Remmy
Throwing dick to bad chicks, when the X-O hit me
2000 trying to hit me, playing with legalized dope
Doing circles round you dopefiend rappers, in low-low's
Or maybe the fo' do', S Type Jag on chrome
Corleone, gon get his hustle on
(*talking*)
Scoob what’s up, Dave, Ant
Ain’t forgot about y’all mayn, we in here doing this shit
You know I’m saying Yellowstone, what’s the deal
Ward what, swang and holla at me mayn
Know I’m saying, Clay, Brandoe
We got what on the motherfucking tracks mayn what