A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Timbaland

"f*ckWitMeYouKnowIGotIt"

[Lead-In: DJ Drama]
I mean it’s simple
Can’t f*ck wit us

[Intro: Lil Wayne]
I got money on yo head, I don’t do my dirty work
I cut off my hands, I don’t even touch the work
I pray these n*ggas don’t f*ck with me and I don’t like to curse in church
And my girl’ pus*y taste just like Mrs. Butterworth’s
I mean that, believe that

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Don’t be short with that work n*gga
We find out where yo ho work n*gga
We follow your moms from church n*gga
You gonna have to swallow yo pride like a thirst quencher
Get 'em Tune, I don’t really f*ck around with certain n*ggas
f*ck all yall n*ggas, except my n*ggas
These n*ggas hustling backwards
Check your rear-view mirror and your side mirrors
OG Kush keep my mind clearer
That choppa get yo mind right
I got two choppers, that’s chopsticks
Eat yo block up like shrimp fried rice
Been so long since I seen my eyes white
You know I smoke like dry ice
Better stay in your lane or get sideswiped
It’s going down, let me straighten up and fly right
Still can’t turn a ho into a housewife
Man, it’s like some things will never change
You ain’t got a shot in a gun range
These chumps ain’t even got chump change
Uh, yeah, and don’t f*ck with me, you know I’m Gotti
Check yourself before I sign it
Yeah, I’m shinin on these n*ggas, no horizon
Yeah, and it’s going down if I’m her pilot
Uh, my new car is so robotic
My new b*tch is so provided, money talks, yours like no comment
Black car, racial profiling, rest in peace to Christopher Wallace
Desert Eagle like the Mojave, I get my work from Rico Suave
Uh, it’s a Rollie if I got time on my hand
If you ever see me broke, write on my cast
Boy, my weed so good, I cry when it’s gone
Had a phone in jail, that’s a cellphone
Yeah, I’m bout to buy a machine gun
We drink it all, leave clean cups, make mountains look like speed bumps
I’m sittin on some train tracks, hopin' that b*tch speed up
I’m strong-arming these n*ggas, roll my sleeves up, yeah
I got bad b*tches on standby, all my hoes got cat eyes
Celebrate when a rat die, make a n*gga fall back like he getting baptized
Put me in a hospital room, full of flat lines, I’m Tunechi Lee immortal
My name ringing, my name ringing, hello may I take your order?
I say, Testarossa over testimony
Got so much sh*t built up you could smell it on me
f*ck all y'all n*ggas in Swahili n*gga
Ain’t nothing free round here but Willy, n*gga
AK-47, call it Mr. Biggs
All my n*ggas bloods, f*ck your syringe
Chop his head off, put it in the fridge
Try not to mistake that sh*t for dinner, Dedication

[Verse 2 : T.I.]
Hey let me introduce you n*ggas to America's Most
Every n*gga round with me carry a tote
Sadity b*tches, like a n*gga Tune on the low
They just be like 10 and be doing the most
Okay, Tune in the jet flyin over the boat
I’m on the way from the Panama, I got a few on the boat
What you n*ggas make a year, I could do with the blow
You keep on playin with me, bet I’ll put a few in you, ho
The fate of a f*ck n*gga, we soon to see
These n*ggas sweet as perfume to me
I mean, really, like cartoon to me
Ain’t nobody f*ckin with Tune and me
Hustle Gang, bang green, in God we trust
Young Money, Cash Money, they down with us
I got a b*tch who want you b*tch, you finna give the ho up
And don’t buck, shawty listen, you don’t really know us
We a bust a n*gga head, leave him layin' for dead
I get caught with a banger, I’ma lay in the feds
In gen. pop., n*gga, every day in the feds
I was chillin on the yard, really going hard
And these pus*y n*ggas catchin' feelings over broads
King, pus*y n*gga, but I'm really like a god
A-Town n*gga, Bankhead, I’m about it
Everybody know to f*ck with me cuz I got it

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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