My criteria compared to your career just isn't fair
They don't feel me, but they fear me
Okay you're a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin?
Nothin', nothin', you ain't scarin' nothin'
Don't you compare me cause there ain't nobody near me
Sister, Brother, Son, Daughter, Father mothafucker a copper
You cant man 'em then you mop 'em
Motherfucker I'm ill, not sick
Call me Mr. Carter or Mr. Lawnmower
And I'd rather be pushin' flowers
A million here, a million there
Call me what you want bitch
Call him Dennis Rodman
I do what I do and you do what you can do about it
You cant stand 'em then you drop 'em
And the Bible told us every girl was sour
Andre 3000, where is Erykah Badu at?
Bitch, I will turn a crack rock into a mountain
I'm a young money millionaire, tougher than Nigerian hair
I'm it
(A milli, a milli, a milli)
Yeah I ate a shy bitch
Dare me
Motherfucker I say like face shit without me
I don't owe you like two vowels
Even Gwen Stefani say she couldn't doubt me
Boy I got so many bitches like I'm Mike Lowery
So when she ask for the money when you through don't be surprised, bitch
Call me on my Sidekick
And I'm o.k., but my watch sick
I'ma venereal disease like a menstrual bleed
Motherfucker I'm ill
And I be the shit, now you got loose bowels
Got da Maserati dancin' on the bridge pussy poppin'
Threw the pencil and leak the sheet of the tablet in my mind
Am I not thick?
"He's a beast he's a dog, he's a motherfuckin' problem"
Yeah nigga, that's my bitch
But I would like for you to pay me by the hour
Yeah my glock sick
See, they say I'm rappin' like B.I.G., Jay, and Tupac
Tony told us this world was ours
My name ain't Bic, but I keep that flame
I'ma millionaire
It ain't trickin' if you got it
Chrome lips pokin' out, the coupe look like it's poutin'
Never answer when it's private
She ain't shy no more, she changed her name to my bitch
Who that? Who that said they gon' beat Lil' Wayne
Sicilian bitch with long hair, with coke in her derrierre
You drop 'em cuz we pop 'em like Orville Redenbacher
I go by them goon rules if you can't beat 'em then you prop 'em
And the all mighty power of dat chit cha cha chopper
Now who that wanna do that, boy you knew that chew that swallow
Songwriters: Dwayne Carter, George Chambers, Joseph Chambers, Lester Chambers, Willie Chambers, Shondrae Crawford, Kamaal Ibn Jonath Fareed, Charles A Hester, Shahe Jones Muhammad Ali
Than to be in the pen sharin' showers
Motherfucker I'm ill
Yeah my drop sick
But you like a bitch with no ass, you ain't got shit
I'm illie, C3
Don't play in her garden, and don't smell her flower
Damn I hate a shy bitch
Don't you hate a shy bitch?
Like smoke in the thinnest air
Cuz my seconds, minutes, hours go to the all mighty dollar
I open the Lamborghini
They don't see me, but they hear me
Hopin' them crackers see me like, "Look at that bastard Weezy"
Cuz I don't write shit cuz I ain't got time
Tell the coppers, ha ha ha ha you can't catch 'em, you can't stop 'em
Publishers: EMI APRIL MUSIC INC., LEVEGAS PUBLISHING COMPANY INC, NOTTING HILL MUSIC INC, WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP
On some faggot bullshit