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Published on Nov 1, 2009
Young Money, syrup and a Big Shot Time to do the thing, that's word to ya wrist watch Shoot the Glock till it burn to my wrist lock Rims hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock H-Hold the gun sideways like O-Dog Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his nose off Make the girls say my name like a role call Pain killers got a nigga bout to doze off Big shit nigga, talk big shit nigga Big bread bread like a picnic nigga Shake the whole game like the hit stick nigga Money spread like germs, get sick nigga Yeah, and fuck them other niggas 1 9 hundred, who want it? I deliver Concrete shoes won't help in the river I don't care if you were Michael Phelps, my nigga I'm higher than the mutherfuckin' Alps, my nigga I'm flyer than the mutherfuckin' stealth, my nigga Y-Young Money shit, top shelf, my nigga We the motherfuckers like MILF, my nigga UhUm, Flow like syringes Yeah, I'm in my mode, got a code like Da Vinci I was in the trenches, now I'm in the Trump And everybody watch ya back when you're in the front You ain't never safe, stop playin' with a gangsta Bring it to his face and he ran like a flanker Bend the girl over, put her hands on her ankles I'm all over this ice cream beat like sprinkles
Why thank you, if you's a hater I'm eatin, you's a waiter Pistol on my hip, Tomb Raider Holla at ya gualla, sue 'em later Young tune nigga, typhoon nigga And if you think it's sweet, buy a room nigga Die or move, nigga I'm on my gang shit She gimme good brain like she studied at Cambridge Lightin' up a mutherfuckin' blunt Stupid fruity swag like a mutherfuckin' runt And I be with my dog like a mutherfucka huntin' Every day of the week is the first of the month Audemar Piguet with the diamonds in the face, can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it poppin' like a semi automatic And if ya got beef, I'll put the biscuit on the pattyy Rockstar tatted, big money addict Runnin' this shit, now I'm feelin' athletic I-I'm on the boat bitch, gettin' sea sick Stop playin', I'm fresher than a Degree stick Street shit, well of course I smoke mad weed, I'm on my high horse Please don't shoot me down, I land feet flat Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back Hah, I need a massage And when it come to hoes, man I got a collage Finger on the button, nigga just stuntin' If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me nothin' Kush so strong, you can smell me comin' Bitch, I go hard like the boy from 300 You think y'all kick it Well boy we puntin' Young Money baby, we the shit, weak stomachs