That’s All I Have lyrics

by

Nicki Minaj


[Intro: Lil Wayne]
n*gga ain't let me catch my breath
Nah, you heard me?

[Verse 1: Tyga]
Ahhh! Peek-a-boo, b*tch! (Yeah) Swag scare your kids (Huh?)
My airplane clothes flyer than your bestest sh*t (Really)
Gorillas in the mist, pro-Black: pump they fist
I'm from the Planet of the Apes, King Kong clips (Blah)
Silence lambs, b*tch (Yes), run through your land tripping (Hahaha)
Can't pretend when this is real as it gets, can you? (No)
If sh*t hits the fan, I Ron Artest n*ggas (Ha)
This how I'm living, getting tatted in some house slippers (Ah)
I like my b*tches simple: lay back, relax your mental (b*tch)
sh*t, you know what I do; now, tell me what you tryna get into
The man car's rented (Right), the man car killing (Yes)
Gossiping? Man, f*ck the car! Look at the man in it, ha!
Ha! Boys-to-man business (Yes), we don't hire b*tches (No)
Just fire b*tches: Young Money fire-spitters (Ahhh)
Them red ants is with us (Haha), and they ain't ate they dinner (No)
Begin the feast; feet lying, fatality finish
I'm killin these records, they put me in Guinness
I really don't give a f-f*ck if you witness
You hear it, listen, buy it, steal it
I'm still gonna get my f*cking percentage
I cuss a lot 'cause, b*tch, I'm serious, Young No-Beard
Get soup, like gumbo with shrimp
Flyer than Dumbo ears is, b*tch
[Break: Lil Wayne]
Now, my dog, T, was just rocking, you heard me?
Hit the weed, T! You heard me?

[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Ugh! now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat
But I weather the storm, I'm a lightning streak, ugh
Weezy F. Baby, I do it big—weigh me
Them crazy freaky b*tches tryna Cirque du Soleil me
Got some new b*tches, Trel got em' laughin'
The one that gave me head could suck the nail out a casket
Shotgun on the kitchen table, bullet shells in the cabinet
f*cking with me is like stepping on the tail of a dragon
Wet pus*y is my cabin, more b*tches than a pageant
I keep a house full, n*gga—call me Bob Saget
Spending time backwards, hotter than a cactus
And we ain't in the building—we the f*cking contractors
Y—YM, motherf*cker, why hate it?
Young Money down your throat, you gotta stay hydrated
Quarterback Weezy, young Tom Brady
Open up your mouth, and catch a bomb, baby, haha!
Good morning, dude, Eagle-Street-Corner Tune
Long dough, no shortbread, no Lorna Doone
I'm warnin' you: We on the move
Bunch of female dogs and garden tools
That's b*tches and hoes, hospital full, sick of my flow
Hi—Hip-hop was washed up
So I brought some change to finish my load
I load millions and more millions
Money to the ceilings? n*gga, No Ceilings! I'm out!
[Verse 3: Shanell]
Step up in this b*tch, five o'clock in the morning
The world is waking up, you can hear the pigeons yawning
I'ma get that worm now; tell 'em it's my turn now
Y'all n*ggas 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
f*cking with my bred'ren, 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?

[Outro: Shanell]
That's all I have!
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net