Click Clack lyrics

[Intro: Slim Thug]
Click clack motherf*ckers, I ain't tryna to hear nothin’

[Chorus: Slim Thug]
A lot of rap n*ggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you-
So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion
Click clack motherf*ckers, I ain't tryna hear nothin’

[Verse 1: Nicki Minaj]
They call me Nicolas (Yeah), style defined as ridiculous (Okay)
I beg your pardon, meet me at the Garden
The number one draft, I'm New York's pick
And I don't lose like them dudes, on the New York Knicks
(Woo) Check it, I'm overseas, rockin’ hella capris
I'm in the West Indies, eatin' delicacies
I tell 'em, they want Kane like Erica? Please
Brotha your money young, like that n*gga Jeezy
These broke rappers, always rappin' 'bout a pink truck
I'm only happy, when I'm hoppin' out the Brinks truck (Woo)
And I don't need a sixteen, I got a sentence
I goes in on a f*cker, like an entrance
These old b*tches, better change they dentures (What up)
When I get in the game, they gon' play the benches (Okay)
f*ck your friendship, pay attention (Uh-huh)
b*tch, get at me? I'ma pay my henchmen
[Chorus: Slim Thug]
A lot of rap n*ggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you-
So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion
Click clack motherf*ckers, I ain't tryna hear nothin’

[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj]
They call me Maraj (Yeah), f*ck you, and f*ck your squad (Woo)
Head b*tch in charge, I ain't talkin' bout the Taj (Nope)
I'm on the other line, I ain't talkin' bout call waitin' (Listen)
I'm VIP lil' mama, I just walk straight in (Woo)
Lil' Dolce & Gabbana got this broad hatin'
That's why I pop up in the Porsche, with the top vacant (Yeah)
Mami stop fakin', talkin' bout what you got
You ain't got nathen, and you're not cakin’
You're not my taste (Nope), get out of my face (Yes)
I play the top, like eight friends on your MySpace (Woo-woo)
Stay in a child's place, check the timin'
I rock b*tches, like they throwin' up the diamonds
(It's the Roc)
Get on a flight, I be bakin' on islands
Mami, your accent sounds faker than Dylan
Murder 'dem, murder 'dem
f*ck a competition, already murdered them (Woo-woo)

[Chorus: Slim Thug]
A lot of rap n*ggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you-
So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion
Click clack motherf*ckers, I ain't tryna hear nothin’
[Verse 3: Nicki Minaj]
They call me Nicki M. (Woo-woo), hard to find me in a sticky benz
I play the club with a thug, and some pretty friends (What up?)
And if they ain't got the gat, they got the knife on (Yes sir)
You're too wack to get up on one of my songs (Whoop)
You got a deal, cause you was givin' up the coochie, prolly (Ugh)
But I'll arrange one hit, like "Oochie Wally" (Ugh)
(Gone 'til November) And you'll be gone 'til November, like Wyclef (You'll be gone, 'til November)
I hold weight and I ain't talkin' ‘bout biceps
I rep Queens like a crown (Yes), when I'm in the town (Yes)
Ask Yung Joc, it's goin' down (Yes)
Kisses to my b*tches, and my n*ggas, get a pound
June, turn me up, (Mic check) How I sound?
b*tches don't know the half, like they flunked that math
Give a f*ck about a b*tch, and the clique she wit’
Unless, you doin' them numbers, like arithmetic
Young Nick, holla back and turn up my sh*t (Woo-woo)

[Chorus: Slim Thug]
A lot of rap n*ggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you-
So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion
Click clack motherf*ckers, I ain't tryna hear nothin’