[Intro: MP2K13]
Chriaq! Chriaq! f*ck it up
Lil' Jay, Katie, Cash Kidd, Dreezy, Nicki
We go off, n*gga we Pefect
OOOUUU!!!
[Verse 1: Lil' Jay]
Pull on your block in full attack
We got 30s and we got Macs
Catch a opp then he getting stretched
Pop his ass like a f*cking flat
Got the Mac-11 in my backpack
Yeah that b*tch go rat-tat
Try to run, tear down your back
Clout Lord I can't go for that
30 blow like a f*cking fan
Doing hits out a f*cking van
Then get out the f*cking jam
Like Lil Bibby when he f*cking ran
Double 0 i'm the f*cking man
Yeah I got pounds and I got grams
You can get taxed like Uncle Sam
And I do hits in my Timberlands
Do hits in my Nike Airs
Got a 30 on me I don't fight fair
Yeah my shooter with me and he right there
They got guns and semis
Shooting in the air
And catch a body and don't even care
Leave the pus*y body anywhere
And i'm steady riding through their block
Why the pus*y n*ggas never there?
[Verse 2: Katie Got Bandz]
Hundred goons shoot hundred tools
Night groom for I let it boom
b*tches greedy, I do you greasy
If you make a move, put them on the move
b*tches hate me, tryna stunt my groove
They know how I do, this is nothing new
Hit the club, pop a lot of bottles
Throw a lot of dubs just something to do
They know how I'm rocking
Steady fendi copping swag, bottle rocket, that's a Prada shoe
Katie cool, so you fronta move now they bussing tools and you on the news
Late night, hit a block cruise, I ain't got it on me, you a f*cking fool
Jump shot, let us top ooze then dip move to the spot cool
[Verse 3: Cash Kidd]
Oh, that's your b*tch? Do she know that?
Cause I'ma find her spot like a GPS, then pass that b*tch like an easy test
I'm good b*tch, we eating, don't nobody starve, we kinda hard
Got a team full of loyal n*ggas, and they all shooters so why the f*ck I need a bodyguard
These b*tches thirsty, they need water
I get 'em wetter than seahorses
If her head good, I'm recording, she blew me, like Jay-Z daughter
n*gga, f*ck your mama, I'll f*ck your mama
Get my mama to come bust your mama
My side b*tch look like Pocahontas
Got a couple thousand, n*gga f*ck a wallet
What up my n*gga Rue, what's good Rell you my n*gga too
I'm so cold, I need chicken soup, when I'm in the booth I might get the flu
When I'm in the Coupe I dismiss the roof
Scope on the gun like n*gga peek-a-boo
That b*tch louder than Mystikal and they'll shock your ass like Pikachu
I don't f*ck with these hoes for hours I give 'em five minutes I got sh*t to do
Bust a nut and be like "sh*t, b*tch what you finna do"
[Verse 4: Dreezy]
Hit up Harolds on 87th
For a 5 piece and some mild sauce
Thot top while I'm hitting blocks
I feel like the Rock, knocking miles off
b*tches silly
Coming in my city
When they knowing really
They ain't f*cking with me
I'm feeling like a semi
Got it hidden with me
I be rolling sticky
That thing thick as Nicki
Got yo n*gga with me
Left him with a hickey
He wanna hit
But he ain't even get a quickey
I be switching n*ggas when I'm feeling picky
The only rat I'm f*cking with is Micky
I'm the truth,thats a fact
I was really born in Chiraq
I done chopped it up with some real n*ggas and the next day they got whacked
I don;t have manners and don't make no apologies
Out of this world, I'm a star like astrology
Double life; Hannah
Tell yo n*gga band up
And when he brake it, maybe he can talk to me
All of my ex n*ggas steady stalking me
I'm flexing like I got the Hulk in me
No time for b*tches
Money calling me
I feel paranoid the way that they follow me
STOP comparing me to the weak
Writing this will probably take a week
You look at it like you're in the booth
I look at it like I'm at the beach
[Verse 5: Nicki Minaj]
Ain't yellin' cut, when it's shootin' time
Sign up, it's recruitin' time
Big wigs, with a suit and tie
And them big things got two inside
f*ck wrong wit' these ho n*ggas?
Don't do coke, I don't blow n*ggas
I don't tell n*ggas, I show n*ggas
And it's never less than like 4 n*ggas
(Four-four) 4 wings and some french fries
Hot sauce and ketchup n*gga
He telling and he hiding
But real n*ggas still catch a n*gga
Cop Raris? I don't test drive 'em
Home theaters, can't Best Buy 'em
These n*ggas that I roll with
Don't let a single thing get by 'em
King pins and them drug lords
Chi-Town, no gun laws
Broke b*tches that talk sh*t?
Now them the b*tches I stunt for
Malcolm X daughter, came at me
Lookin' ass n*ggas ain't happy
Rolled out with some Latin Kings
And some eses in 'em plain khakis
Smack b*tches, no smack cam
Closed fists, no back hands
Pop pus*y on a hand stand
They suckin' di*k like it's band camp
Call Webb and then call Nitty
Queens n*ggas in, it's all hoodies
Kidnappin' and then rob n*ggas
Call D-Roc for a biggie
pus*y ass little rap n*ggas
I f*cked with real trap n*ggas
Pop star, icon
But I send n*ggas, come snatch n*ggas
I'm with EBK, you on EBT
Got a black nine, call it BET
School n*ggas, get a GED
And I tease n*ggas, make em B-E-G
Got a money fetish, I'mma fly to Venice
Got a big house, I can play some tennis
Lil Herb, what's good?
I'm a bad b*tch and I f*ck good