That's All I Have (feat. Tyga & Zipp)

Nigga ain't let me catch my breath or nothin' You heard me? Ha! Peek-a-boo, bitch (yeah), swag scare your kids My airplane clothes flyer than your bestest shit (really) Gorillas in the mist, pro-black, pump they fist I'm from the Planet of the Apes, King Kong clips Silence lambs, bitch (yes), run through your land trippin' Can't pretend when this is real as it gets, can ya? (No) If shit hits the fan, I Ron Artest niggas (ha) This how I'm living getting tatted in some house slippers I like my bitches simple, lay back, relax ya mental (bitch) Shit, you know what I do, now, tell me what you tryna get into The man car's rented (right), the man car killing (yes) Gossipping? Fuck the car, look at the man in it, ha Boys-to-man business, we don't hire bitches Just fire bitches, Young Money fire-spitters Them red ants is with us and they ain't ate they dinner (no) Begin the feast, feet lying, fatality finish I'm killin these records, they put me in Guinness I really don't give a f-fuck if you witness You hear it, listen, buy it, steal it I'm still gonna get my fucking percentage I cuss a lot 'cause bitch I'm serious, young no beard Get soup, like gumbo with shrimp Flyer than Dumbo ears is, bitch Now, my dog, T, was just rocking, you heard me? Hit the weed, T, you heard me? Yeah Uh, now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat But I weather the storm, I'm a lightnin' streak Uh, Weezy F. Baby, I do it big, weigh me Them crazy freaky bitches tryna to Cirque du Soleil me Got some new bitches, trail got 'em laughin' The one that gave me head can suck the nail out a casket Shotgun on the kitchen table, bullet shells in the cabinet Fuckin' with me is like steppin' on the tail of a dragon Wet pussy is my cabin, more bitches than a pageant I keep a house full nigga, call me Bob Saget Spendin' time backwards, hotter than a cactus And we ain't in the buildin', we the fuckin' contractors Y-YM, motherfucker, why hate it? Young Money down your throat, you gotta stay hydrated Quaterback Weezy, young Tom Brandy Open up your mouth, and catch a bomb baby Good morning, dude, Eagle Street corner, Tune Long dough, no short bread, no Lorna Doone I'm warnin' you, we on the move Bunch of female dogs and garden tools That's bitches and hoes, hospital full, sick of my flow Hip-hop was washed up so I brought some change to finish my load I load millions and more millions Money to the ceilings? Nigga, No Ceilings Step up in this bitch, five o'clock in the morning The world is waking up, you can hear the pigeons yawning I'ma get that worm now, tell 'em it's my turn now Y'all niggas need a lesson on some ethic, you gon' learn now I do this for the love of it, saliva, 'cause I love to spit And I juke it for my future records, y'all gon' love to spin Fucking with my brethren, ten years strong And he put them dreads in, Silver John Long But he's more like platinum, hold up, here's a napkin Pick your jaw up off the floor and tuck your tongue right back in Tell me, where is Mack Maine? That's all I have