Ha! Peek-a-boo, bitch! Swag scare your kids
My airplane clothes flyer than your bestest shit
Gorillas in the mist, pro-black: pump they fist
I'm from the Planet of the Apes: King Kong clips
Silence Lambs, bitch; run through your land trippin'
Can't pretend when this is real as it gets, can ya?
If shit hits the fan, I Ron Artest niggas
This how I'm living: getting tatted in some house slippers
I like my bitches simple: lay back, relax ya mental
Shit, you know what I do, tell me what you tryna get into
The man car's rented, the man car killing
Gossipping? Fuck the car! Look at the man in it!
Ha! Boys-to-man business, we don't hire bitches
Just fire bitches: Young Money fire spitters
Them red ants is with us
And they ain't ate they dinner
Begin the feast; feet lying, fatality finish
I'm killin these records, they put me in Guinness
I really don't give a fuck if you witness
You hear it, listen, buy it, steal it
I'm still gonna get my fucking percentage
I cuss a lot cause bitch I'm seers
Young no beard, get soup
Like gumbo with shrimp
Flyer than Dumbo ears is, bitch
Uhh, now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat
But I weather the storm, I'm a lightnin' streak
Uhh, Weezy F. Baby, I do it big: weigh me
Them crazy freaky bitches tryna to Cirque du Soleil me
Got some new bitches, trail got em' laughin'
The one that gave me head can suck the nail out a casket
Shotgun on the kitchen table, bullet shells in the cabinet
Fuckin' with me is like steppin' on the tail of a dragon
Wet pussy is my cabin, more bitches than a pageant
I keep a house full nigga, call me Bob Saget
Spendin' time backwards, hotter than a cactus
And we ain't in the buildin', we the fuckin' contractors
YM, muthafucka, why hate it?
Young Money down your throat, ya gotta stay hydrated
Quarterback Weezy, young Tom Brady
Open up ya mouth, and catch a bomb baby
Good morning, dude, Eagle Street corner, Tune
Long dough, no short bread, no Lorna Doone
I'm warnin' you: we on the move
Bunch of female dogs and garden tools
That's bitches and hoes, hospital full, sick of my flow
Hip-hop was washed up so I bought some change to finish my load
I load millions... and more millions
Money to the ceilings?
Nigga, NO CEILINGS!
Step up in this bitch, 5 o'clock in the morning
The world is waking up, you can hear the pigeons yawning
I'mma get that worm now, tell 'em it's my turn now
Y'all niggas need a lesson on some ethic; you gon' learn now
I do this for the love of it; saliva, cause I love to spit
And I juke it; for my future records, y'all gon' love to spin
Fucking with my brethren, 10 years strong
And he put them dreads in: Silver John Long
But he's more like platinum; hold up, here's a napkin
Pick your jaw up off the floor and tuck your tongue right back in
Tell me, where is Mack Maine?
That's all I have
Written By Dwayne Carter, Michael Nguyen-Stevenson
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.