Dave East – My Nigga Dead (Interlude) Lyrics

My Nigga Dead (Interlude) Lyrics by Dave East

[Intro]
Fuck you looking at, nigga?
I’m still tryna find out, nigga
Hold on, hold on, hold on, wait
Oh we got a problem here?
We got a problem here?
Holiday season

[Verse 1 – Dave East]
I got the drop uptown, they said they robbing n—-s “uptown”
You want your block, you can’t hustle until you find them n—-s “find them n—-s”
Ignorant adolescence like in a father figure
Life been kind of rough, couldn’t find him smiling in all his pictures “at all”
I can teach you how to drive, sit and park it with ya “c’mere”
We fought before we was hitting, s–t, really off the liquor “bah, bah”
Let me tell you about my man, he made his maths double “double”
Like Biggie song, they shot his daughter in the calf muscle
A hundred percent, wasn’t the type to half-hustle
Might die from greed, it’s guaranteed if a bag touch you “bag”
He was connected in Milwaukee, came back to Harlem

Five fifty, the same colour, his coffin “brown”
Packages was duct-taped, the whip had new car scent “new”
Paranoid he circled the block before he parked it “paranoid”
He usually would stop at the bodega ‘fore he talked s–t
A fiend peeped us early and told us, she saw a brick “word?”
Comfortable, we slid through in a grey Lacoste fit
Glock .40 on him, he been hearing n—-s talk s–t
Funny stares and whispers like every time he walk in
It’s hard to see if sharks in the water, don’t see no shark fin
N—-s sit crowded at the lobby, he played the park bench
Soon a n—a ratted, 10 years ago, they ain’t talk since “not a word”
Homie tried to speak and he ignored him
They really don’t be beefing, n—-s be dying over boredom

He recognised another kid that usually shop on Fordham “BX”
Something with this son, if he was dolo, he’d have called him
Shawty really come from nothing, survival’s exhausting
Two options, go to court or get low in a coffin “get low”
Body language different, he feeling like n—-s talking
Keep praying to Jesus, he feeling like n—-s crossed him
Hard to find his homies, he feeling like n—-s lost him
Connect said he would front him a brick, but it would cost him
His connections from the mid-west just had him flossing “shine”
Flexed on the plug, said he’d had enough, he could toss town
Spanish n—a with him helped understand when they talking

Connect kept telling jokes, he said he was Kevin Hart’s friend
Homie ain’t come here for comedy show
Catch a homie, get low
Not even you mommy could now
No business, this s–t was personal
He in the trap with a brick, thinking ’bout if he spit, what would he get for a verse or two
He’d invite some close friends, ride by in a hearse or two
His life a movie, death just f—-d it up like commercials do
He told his stupid n—a, I could work with you
Kill a n n—a that you got love for, that s–t hurt to do “it hurt”
F–k the emotions, we got work to move
Still got his gun and his mans, he in a certain mood
When he was starving, you get murked for food
N—-s caught him picking up his daughter, putting work at school
They was aiming at his head and hit her in the leg
Wasn’t no money, it was just over some s–t he said “watch your mouth”
The last time we spoke he said he’d try and get some bread
I got off of tour, came home, found out my n—a dead

[Outro]
The s–t we go through, you know
Can’t make this s–t up
Put the gun away, n—a
Can we have one night with no fighting and nobody get shot?
Shut up b—h
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