Yeah uh, fo' fo' bulldog, my mothafucking pet I point it at you and tell that motherfucker fetch I'm fucking her good, she got her legs on my neck I get pussy, mouth and ass, call that bitch triple threat When I was in jail she let me call her collect But if she get greedy, I'ma starve her to death Top down, it's upset Been fucking the world and nigga and I ain't cum yet! You f*ck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet The guns are drawn and I ain't talking 'bout a sketch I pay these niggas with a reality check Prepared for the worst but still praying for the best This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress The money don't sleep so Weezy can't rest An AK47 is my fucking address, huh I'm not a star Somebody lied I got a chopper in the car (huh) I got a chopper in the car (huh) I got a chopper in the car Load up the choppers like it's December thirty first Roll up and cock it and hit them niggas where it hurts If I die today, remember me like John Lennon Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh Big black nigga, and an icy watch Shoes on the coupe, bitch I got a Nike shop Counts the profits you could bring 'em in a Nike box Grinding in my Jordan's kick 'em off they might high, swish! I'm swimming in the yellow bitch, boss In the red nine eleven looking devilish Red beam make a bitch nigga sit down Thought it were bullet proof 'till he got hit the fifth time Drop Palmolive in a nigga dope Make it come back even harder than before Baby I'm the only one that paid your car notes Well connected, got killers off in Chicago I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car (huh) I got a chopper in the car (huh) I got a chopper in the car Load up the choppers like it's December thirty first Roll up and cock it and hit them niggas where it hurts If I die today, remember me like John Lennon Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh Talk stupid get ya head popped I got that Esther Bitch I'm Red Foxx, big B's, Red Sox I get money to kill time, dead clocks Your fucking with a nigga who don't give a f*ck Empty the clip than roll a window up Pussy niggas sweet, you niggas Cinnabon I'm in a red bitch, she said she finna cum Two hundred thou' on a chain, I don't need a piece That banana clip, let Chiquita speak Dark shades, Eazy E Five letters, YMCMB Bitch ass nigga, pussy ass nigga I see ya looking, with ya looking ass nigga You know the rules, kill 'em all and keep moving If I died today it'd be a holiday I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car So don't make it come alive Rip yo ass apart than I put myself together YMCMB, double M, we rich forever (huh) The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon' bang Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch My first home invasion, poppy gave me forty bricks Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape Ain't it funny momma, only son be baking cakes Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I'm Santa Claus Niggas gather 'round, got gifts for each and all of y'all Take it home and let it bubble that's the double up If you get in trouble that just mean you fucking up It's a cold world I need a bird to cuddle up I call the plays, mothafucker huddle up I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car, yeah
Written by: DWAYNE CARTER, ERIK ORTIZ, KEVIN CROWE, WILLIAM ROBERTS, JAMAL JONES, CHRISTIAN WARD, ROB HOLLADAY
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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