I don't like the look of it.
[Verse 1: Gudda Gudda]
Okay, I'm sippin' on the syrup, got a nigga movin' slow,
I'm all about the money, what the fuck you think I do it for?
Bitch, don't act like you don't know, I'm killin' all these rap niggas,
Custom made caskets for yo mothafuckin' funeral.
Keep the women with me, shit, I gotta keep like two or more,
Party every day, like we won the fuckin' Super Bowl.
Chillin' wit' my nigga Mack, he keep bitches handy,
White girl on the table, let ‘em sniff the nose candy.
When I'm walkin' by, the women sayin', “Who is that nigga?”
I replied, “Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that nigga!”
I was raised in the home of the cap splitters,
Whip on 24's, watch it crawl like a caterpillar.
I come with a toy, boy, like a Happy Meal,
And you's a mothafuckin' duck, Daffy Dill.
I'm from the school of hard knocks, where we scrap and kill,
Pick the knife or gun, or you can get the package deal,
I'm hot nigga, burnin' everything around me.
I was lost for a minute, took a while but I found me,
The streets say I'm king, but the game'll never crown me,
Realest nigga doin' it, just ask the niggas ‘round me,
So you can't size me up or try to clown, uh!
Shark in the water, jump in, and Imma drown ya,
New Orleans nigga, gun out, Imma down ya,
Put niggas to sleep like a mothafuckin' downer,
I'm a Great White, you's a flounder,
Fish and a bitch, I tuner everything around ya,
U-Haul Gudda, movin' everything around ya,
It's Young Money, bitch! At the top is where they found us, nigga!
[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Uh, goons on deck, Marley, don't shoot ‘em!
Silence on the gun, watch a nigga mute ‘em,
The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden,
School these niggas, they all my students.
All jokes aside, I ain't playin with ya,
The weed broke down, like a transmission,
The chopper, spin him ‘round, like a ballerina,
Bitch, I'm still spittin' like I ate a jalapeño.
I'm from uptown, my bitch from Argentina,
My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena,
Stunt so hard, it's all y'all fault,
And when it come to beef, give me A1 Sauce.
I ain't worryin' ‘bout shit, everything paid out,
You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade's house,
With a high yellow thick bitch wit' her legs out,
Cash Money president, but we in a Red house.
Who the fuck want it? Make my fuckin' day.
I blow your candles out, now, nigga, cut the cake,
I gotta eat, bitch, like a runaway,
Y'all niggas ain't eatin', stomach ache.
Okay, all these bitches, and niggas still hatin'
I used to be ballin', but now I'm Bill Gatein',
Fuckin' with my iPhone, bumpin' Illmatic,
I'm on the road to riches, there's just a lil' traffic.
Hair still platted, thuggin' is a habit,
Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz,
Bunch of bad bitches and I fuck ‘em like rabbits,
Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh!
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