[Intro]
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I dont like the look of it
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[Verse 1: Gudda Gudda]
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Okay, Im sippin on the syrup, got a nigga movin slow
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Im all about the money, what the fuck you think I do it for?
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Bitch, dont act like you dont know, Im killin all these rap niggas
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Custom made caskets for yo motherfuckin funeral
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Keep the women with me, shit, I gotta keep like two or more
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Party everyday, like we won the fuckin Super Bowl
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Chillin with my nigga Mack, he keep bitches handy
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White girl on the table, let em sniff the nose candy
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When Im walkin by, the women sayin, “Who is that nigga?”
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I replied, “Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that nigga!”
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I was raised in the home of the cap splitters
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Whip on 24s, watch it crawl like a caterpillar
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I come with a toy, boy, like a Happy Meal
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And yous a motherfuckin duck, Daffy-dil
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Im from the school of hard knocks where we scrap and kill
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Pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal
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Im hot, nigga, burnin everything around me
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I was lost for a minute, took a while, but I found me (Gudda)
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The streets say Im king but the gamell never crown me (Gudda)
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Realest nigga doin it, just ask them niggas round me (Gudda)
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So you cant size me up or try to clown a—
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Shark in the water, jump in and Ima drown you
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New Orleans nigga, gun out, Ima down you
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Put niggas to sleep like a muhfuckin downer (Gudda)
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Im a Great White, yous a flounder
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Fish and a bitch, I tuna eveything around you
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U-Haul Gudda, movin everything around you (Yeah)
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Its Young Money, bitch! At the top is where they found us, nigga
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[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
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Uh, goons on deck, Marley dont shoot em
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Silence on the gun, watch a nigga mute em
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The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden
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School these niggas, they all my students
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All jokes aside, I aint playin with ya
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The weed broke down like a transmission
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The chopper spin him round, like a ballerina
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Bitch, Im still spittin like I ate a jalape-na
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Im from uptown, my bitch from Argentina
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My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena
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Stunt so hard, its all yall fault
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And when it come to beef, give me A1 Sauce
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I aint worryin bout shit, everything paid out
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You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade house
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With a high, yellow, thick bitch with her legs out
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Cash Money president, but we in a red house
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Who the fuck want it? Make my fuckin day
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I blow your candles out, now, nigga, cut the cake
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I gotta eat, bitch! Like a runaway
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Yall niggas aint eatin, stomach ache
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Okay, all these bitches and niggas still hatin
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I used to be ballin, but now Im Bill Gate-in
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Fuckin with my iPhone, bumpin Illmatic
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Im on the road to riches, theres just a lil traffic
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Hair still platted, thuggin is a habit
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Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz
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Bunch of bad bitches and I fuck em like rabbits
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Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh
