Paroles: Killer Mike. Still My Nigga.

[feat. Ludacris & The Game]

[Intro: Talking]
Man, you know the same shit, man.
The money, the cars, the bitches could fuck up a great friendship.
Ya know!
To all my partners and the partners I lost.

[Killer Mike:]
You used to be my nigga though, my nigga though
Who'd a thought you'd ever envy me and talk down on me to Jigga hoe.
Say we was tight like Wayne pants.
And it was money over bitches even when we made it rain dance.
Lucci over poochi, no romance.
And I have never loved a hoe so no hoe-mance.
Just my bro man.
We got to the cash money but like Nino and G-money the money make shit go funny.
The bitches made it wicked.
The dopeless made it hopeless.
The coppers and the robbers with choppers make me they focus.
My nigga's snitching and I'm like Lord have mercy.
My homie sold me out.
My partner just hurt me.
And all for a bitch I hope the nigga catch herpes.
Nah, I'm fronting but at least the claps is hunting.
Cause any other nigga I would have been clapping something.
Instead of in the studio smoking and rapping something.

[Chorus: Killer Mike]
(And when it's cold outside you can count on your grown man)
You my nigga though.
You still my nigga though.
I don't fuck with you, uh uh, you still my nigga though.
(And when it's time to ride, yeah. You can depend on me)
I'm still your nigga though.
I'm still your nigga though.
I don't fuck with you but, yo I'm still your nigga though.

[Ludacris:]
Now we was once two niggas of the same kind.
Some pimps in our own fucking mind.
On point at game time you would play your position.
Then you came around and double crossed me like a ribbon.
Oh no, abort mission.
Some money's missing.
Went broke, I guess you got to get paid like tuition.
If not the President you got to be a politician.
But others like myself are trying to carry on tradition.
Put women in submission.
We used to need permission
Ta-daaa, now we running through tricks like a magician.
We smoking all the mirrors I knew something was wrong.
So I made up a new trick it's called poof I'm gone.
Now I see you on occasion and we holler at times.
Cause things ain't all peachy like the Georgia lottery sign.
And if you told me cocaine numbers I would think you was lying.
But you got to get yours and fool I got to get mine.
Luda!

[Chorus: Ludacris]
(And when it's cold outside you can count on your grown man)
You my nigga though.
You still my nigga though.
I don't fuck with you, uh uh, but you my nigga though.
(And when it's time to ride, yeah. You can depend on me)
I'm still your nigga though.
I'm still your nigga though.
I don't fuck with you, uh uh, but you my nigga though.

[Game:]
Hey, I had this other nigga who was my brother.
Jigga fan undercover.
The blueprints of my life with different mothers.
We was the closest out of my sisters and brothers.
Two G's closer than the Gucci belt but life's a motha-fucker when you dealing with paper man.
One of our ego's got bigger than skyscrapers man.
After I put the documentary on them Daytons man.
Around the Doctor everyday so I had patience man, he didn't.
Around the dope spot he was pacing man, for digits.
Am I my brother's keepers for real or not decisions.
He was in love with strippers sort of like a bee for honey.
And that was our separation like BG and Cash Money.
(Damn) Why does it got to be like that?
I was stacking paper on tour I was gon' be right back.
(God damn) Why you couldn't let your ego die?
If you see me rocking a hoody nigga you know why.

[Chorus: The Game]
(When it's cold outside you can count on your grown man)
You still my nigga though.
You my nigga though.
I don't fuck with you, uh uh, but you my nigga though.
(And when it's time to ride, yeah. You can depend on me)
You still my nigga though.
Always be my nigga though.
I don't fuck with you, uh uh, but you my bigger bro.

[Singing:]
When it's cold outside
You can count on your grown man