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(Intro) |
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Uhh see man (what) |
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What you muh'fuckers fail to realize is (what's that?) |
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I am that nigga (true) |
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And ain't shit you could do about that, ya underdig? |
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Uhh, yeah |
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(Verse 1) |
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I'm a hooligan hater, but I move like a player |
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Take a look up in my closet (look) every shoe'll be gator |
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Have your baby mother drillin, out the coupe when I slay her |
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You couldn't get the bitch to tip if you was a waiter |
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You aint marketable, why argue wit'chu |
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I'm in the Maybach tryin to find parkin for two |
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Who? The God of this breddren, the weapon |
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You ain't seein numbers, your career is on *67 |
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Your track list is crackless, I use it as a ash kit |
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Like hold up, yeah, flick ya ashes on this whack shit |
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This ain't that piff, homie I will finish ya |
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Black suits, black cars, hoe I'm like the senator |
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Or kinda similar, plus ask the DJ's |
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I put out fire, like I'm holdin an extinguisher |
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New shit every week, new piff, very heat |
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I'll show you how to do this, your music is very sweet |
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(Hook) |
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I mastered this, you're average, nigga you should take notes |
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You bastards sick, I'm back with piff, but nigga you should take notes |
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I'll show you how to stack your chips, most of y'all are straight broke |
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I mastered this, what crack you spit, nigga you should take notes |
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You ain't gotta jack my shit, I'll show you how to bake coke |
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Turn it to a half a brick, make the game chain smoke |
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Find a town, stack ya chips, cause most of y'all are straight broke |
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I mastered this, you're average, nigga you should take notes |
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(Verse 2) |
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The law watch him, I'm car droppin, you hard toppin |
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These player haters can't stand to see J.R. poppin |
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But the star's boxin, how I get 'em off me |
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with left jabs, fag, call me Bernard Hopkins |
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The heat of the night, they heated I'm nice |
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Sleeped in my Nikes, with not a damn crease in my whites |
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While you sucker-for-lovers make a freak off ya wife |
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And throw cuffs on her like you 'bout to read her her rights, right |
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I'm hard as fuck, you target ducks, you ain't spittin hard enough |
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Listen here mami, tsunami couldn't wash me up |
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Child's a pro, my style is whoa, verse is wow, hurt 'em how |
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Homey I am versatile, you lookin at a talent show |
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So, get used to the, hot bars movin ya |
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Loosin ya I'm Lucifer, sittin on Jupiter |
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Listen this is proof, prick you are a fluke |
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I got this wrapped up, it's useless for you to get in the booth |
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Holla |
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(Hook) |
