Hey Hey Hey!
Because the cops is watchin' the streets is talkin'
Ya hoes is unfaithful ya family ungrateful
Ya niggas ain't loyal you niggas ain't lawyers
And everybody saw you and ain't that a bitch!
And this here is the Carter oh! yo! And this here is the Carter yo! oh!
This one here is just to clarify the fact that I'm a motherfuckin' mack
This one here is just to verify the fact that I got straps on my back
This one here is just to clarify the fact that the boy is back! Oh!
Slick as I wanna be born to be hustler
Gonna be rich till I'm gone
Gonna keep spittin' this shit for the hustlers
Gonna keep livin this shit I'm gutless
Bet I'm gonna reap this when I'm gone
Defeat this while I'm here
Gonna keep beatin' this street shit in ya ear
Gonna speak in every single street this year
My shit beat in every jeep on every street this year
Wizzle F Baby y'all niggas can have the Weezy I'm the Birdman Jr. junior
I'm a man to another man
To a bitch I'm a pimp
In the whip I'm a hundred grand
And in the streets I'm a money man
And I'm a hunt it with the streets I get money in the streets like a hundred men
A hundred proof in my other hand
If ever fall spring back like a rubberband
Know what I'm sayin'
Now all the bitches got me strollin' with my dick in my hand
And these niggas got me rollin with my clip on my hip
But this is my land so prick don't trip
Cause K's don't jam and a nigga don't miss
They tellin' me I'm the shit like a nigga don't piss
But nigga don't slip cause I'll kill a punk bitch, word up!
And I don't affiliate with niggaz
I don't love neither bitches just money and drugs nigga
Leave your bitches your money and drugs nigga
Three to ya wisdom five more to your mug nigga
How many more do ya love nigga
Cause I got plenty more to give out I ain't never been a mouthpiece
Ask ya reverend bout me I'm the young God
Aim the shotgun at ya frame and bust boy
Brain and guts leak in the drain and such pour
Plain yuck at a fuck boy, duck boy!
I'm a motherfucking man so respect me as one or the tech meet your ass son
The tech heat your ass son put ya fuckin' chest beneath your ass son
Blooka blook blap bleep ya ass son
Nigga tryin' to see his grandson and we
Got niggas in the pen tryin' to see me wit a Grammy
Wanna be me and don't even understand me
Couldn't see me even if you was standin' with me
I'm that damn convincing not invisible that mans invincible
And advance a little due to the pine
My niggas call me little Russell Crowe for my beautiful mind
And I let you do the time I do the crime
When the crowd call my name I bring my crew to the line
Nigga that's S.Q. and we fine nigga that's S.Q. and we firin' nigga!
Wizzle F Baby for your motherfucking neck nigga
Got Streets in the buildin' Gotti in the buildin'
KL, Fee Fee in the buildin' Rome, DI, Ceeti
These lyrics are not available for printing.
Writer(s): CARTER, DWAYNE / THOMAS, BYRON O.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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