O-Ok, I got this chrome on this Bugatti I’m strong in this Bugatti Two v8’s ain’t no such thing as driving calm in this Bugatti Bitch I’m bad I’m worse I pass the purp Don’t fuck with me ‘cause right now I’m higher than Cap-tain Kirk I swear I be the sickest nigga, You can ask the nurse And if you throw it in the bag, I bet I’ll snatch her purse Ok I spazz, I curse You last, I’m first I’m on your ass- like dirt Behind that cash- get murked I’m talkin’ big shit nigga- join my hitlist nigga What’s the matter? Check your bladder, I’m the shit- piss nigga Shoot the witness, nigga Whole court in the streets And convict this nigga Oh, dickless nigga Man I’m runnin’ with the blucka Young money motherfucka You think we gon’ do our thing? Well ain’t it sunny in the summer? And we coming for the commas And whoever among us And you know Imma bust my ass until my crew very humongous I said T.I. hold ya head And Mack hold ya head Wish I could, but I can’t say some other names ‘cause of the feds And to my bloods- cold red Man you know how we plead And if it cost to be the boss, oh well, I guess I gotta pay I-I’m a New Orleans nigga, I don’t take no shit Take the brain off the whip, now it don’t make no sense Stunt hard on these bitches, I ain’t promise tomorrow Now when they kicking it wit me, like Nomar Garciaparra Flute rollin’, killin’ plants, the lil shop of horror And we roll them bitches thick- make ‘em look like Toccara (Jones) Man I’m too much for these niggas, and three much for these hoes The World is in my hands, and I keep my hands closed
I love my baby mommas, they get my highest honor Gotta take care o’ them kids, Man I know you heard Obama And I live on an island, Atlantic in my backyard I just tell my pilot- to land it in my backyard Quarterback- shotgun, you don’t get any sack yards Bitch, I ball hard, breakin’ all the backboards Pretty-boy Floyd, step up- I will crack yours And even at the White House, we pull up at the back doors
Walk around, like I’m thirty feet tall Tiger Woods- All these hoes tryna birdie these balls And the Porche 911, like emergency calls Man, I just be chillin’, I’m cool like Lou Rawls Young money in the building, I’m puttin’ up new walls Nigga, take your Mrs. Officer- and set some new laws My flow is like rubbin’ two logs Young mula we the new shit, and new drawers (Uh) Now get off my dick- I ain’t fuckin’ witcha Watch me shoot to the bank, I'm a money pistol Weezy beat the beat up, like Sonny Liston Redbone do me good, then I friend her sister I mean a bitch, she never met her best friend or sister I leave her pussy microsoft like Windows Vista Young tunche, pop that coochie for a goon, hoe Bullet in you boy’s memory, now you act like you dunno East side who I do it for- Eagle Street, right by the store Katrina wiped the city out- but couldn’t fuck with Hollygrove Lost some real niggas, I knew from a long time ago But heaven or hell, I hopin’ that they be where Imma go Take a nigga gal, and make her come give me a private show Still long hair, don’t care, like a Navajo I’m the hardest shit- go in your ass and search I smash this verse, and I swag and surf
No Ceilings. (Hahaha.)
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