streets? You got that jacket on ya back You a rat and you done spilled ya guts You a bitch and now you live to fuck And you a nigga I ain't even gotsta
power move and it's everything it seems Before 'Ye signed me, I was getting out my dream Standing on the shoulders of 20,000 fiends Everytime a n-gga wanna try and
man i swear i dont need security i need fan patrol and i am Young Mula and so is twisty baby and u ever forget that and dont forget the baby GONE
it out You must rid yourself from these, these animal fixations You must release yourself From the thickening blackmail of elephantiasis You must divide the wheat from the rats You must turn around [and
wayne) muthafuggin psychopath, young money cave men, muthafugg a geico add. Fo' Fo' bulldog, fuck around and bite yo ass, shittin on you bitches now lemme flush the toilet and wipe my ass. bitch
Bombay Sick flow, get your Medicaid And I'm like Hey! My hometown is NJ Eyes redder than Reynaldo Rey I just blaze And I'm a soldier, better follow the leader And
Doc Y'all, yo, yo yo, when I hear a bass This goes out to my niggaz and you all bitches The Benzes, Range Rovers and sixty-four switches The C.I.A., Feds and
top, and ones below Bitches fuck you star hoes, my hoes run out Department stores with alarms and bar codes on Think you catchin' me and my bitch? You
3000 baby, raunchy, raunchy Good riddance, to niggas and bitches bullshittin' I house MC's like baths and full kitchens, ready or not Doc,hood lynchin
'm a son of a G, I'm not a son of bitch I'm makin' sure that my son and my sons gon' be rich Daughters and my daughters in no particular order I leave
crunk mosquito buckets, hot wood heaters Hooked up Honda Accord, with house speakers Bag, phone and beeper, corduroys and sneakers Pit Spike Lee's and
spitters Bitch we the business, hundred million dollars Bitch we the business, hundred million dollars [Verse 1 - Lil Wayne] Fresh out from my bid Bitch
it momma Corny motherfuckers we shuck em And animals, we stuff em, a cannibal, he's bluffing nah Woke up in the morning with a fucking pen and a pistol
my name, motherfucker vamanos It's me and I'm sick in the prognosis Got more bars than 45 And I put you behind them and I'm like, adios bitch I can
to play with that toy Droppin' this heat like an asteroid Good in the south like past Detroit Pull up aside of a 1977 Sittin' back and sippin' my cronic 7 And
standin on dis dick Don't go low I aint cannabalistic Chicks behave all anamalistic So I'm savaging dis bitch All these hoes and I'm grabbing on dis bitch
3 o'clock, me and Doc Can proceed to drop me and hop out the vehicle and knock on your door Yeah, so let us in before we huff and puff and we blow We
Can I make money motherfucker? (Yeah) Is that alright wit'chu? (No doubt) Can I travel? (Word, Skull and Bones) Can I have a nice motherfuckin car? (Hell