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

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