Dre Da Most - Bricks lyrics

(Verse 1) - Michael Rothschild Bricks in the attic Bricks in the mattress Bricks in the trunk on my Bluetooth in the traffic Bricks fillin' up the trunk with fully automatics Bricks be the reason your television got static Never gonna stop me I just bring it all back This cocoa that im grippin, NeVi starin at my pack Trophies on you b**hes, you should bring my a** a plaque And i'm back My position, Heart attack on them snitches Sold a sack, Kenny itches Then im back to the business I'm… Back to the Riches Back to the hammer spraying clips all in the trenches I know you lost will power snortin' all them inches You know I got the rifle You know my name is Michael You know i'm out in Paris f**in' chillin at the Eiffel I'm rippin' through the kneecap, I'm splitting thru the Stifle They knew im in the business, business bigger than a trifle Bricks in the kitchen You a dead man walking when them bricks end up missin' Them clip riders whippin' Look like Scottie Pippen, need a**ists I'm never b**hin' Little Brodie a** b**h man I told u you should listen Yes I got 20 on my watch If I hate that piece of sh**, then imma shoot em with my Glock Imma shoot with Beretta, I might shoot em with the yop I might shoot em with a 45, might shoot em with a chop I never had sh**, f**in' born without a family Lookin like a f**in' b**h, I thought you was a man to me Shorty want the drop top convertible Ferrari Interstate 168 i'm switchin' with Omari My old girl, what's her name, I thought that chick was Barbie You a dead motherf**er, if you telling me I'm sorry I ain't never had a prison sentence, never had a soul mate You just f**in' minor girls, Cardillo want a court date Bringing in a new ship, while hauling off an old crate Pull up Mac 11 on them s**as with some more weight Rollin' up in black like i'm in New Jack City Got 20 on my wrist my cousin look at me like really With the fur all on my jacket you would think I was in Philly Tryna make a million dollars like my spitta Meek Milly I never had a hope for sh**, now I'm out here gettin' it Had a couple losses then, I coalesced and made a split Far from catchin' feeling's now, my father's d**h I'm over it Started out a youngin' grinding, bout to be on HOVA sh** Walking down, 50 in my zipper, also got a pound I ain't talking weed, them p**y's talking when i'm not around Cruzin' thru my city though I hate It no i'm not in town When i'm shootin on these fakers y'all ain't never hear a sound Young chick, she ain't heard it neither She walked up in the other room, and thought you had a seizure Leave ya dead all on the floor, homie like you huffin' ether Never spillin' chemicals up out the motherf**in' beaker Rap and weed got me sick I think I need a breather I got too many phone calls that's why I keep a beeper And if she s** it good I guess that b**h is just a keeper I'm stepping in my Louis shoes, the blood all on my sneakers We coming at you dog, like them missile heat-seekers We rumble like the ba**, near them new fleet speakers Your all-star player a vegetable in the bleachers And this is why my face expressions look like Mona Lisa's Rothschild