White Label

Y'all **** better not be coming around me

With that fugazi no more, you know?

Got that thang for your ass, you know?

(I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna)

(I'm gonna have to leave you)

A vet stylin' at Met Gala, tuna salad from La Scala

Black sweats, swallow a lot of reefer

God, it hard to quit the bottom feeder, lobster eater

When I fast, I see Elijah's features

A million cash for a Nas feature

Nah is cheaper, do it for free if you do it for me

52 bar verse if the beat is movin' me

Stumble through customs, coppin' Cubans at the Duty Free

Layin' on the most expensive beds, still I'm losin' sleep

Next to Jet's Beauty of the Week 1993

Chin grabber, neck choker, in her mouth spitter

Blouse ripper, ass gripper, that dig you out ****

I ain't gon' hold you, old head gave me old news

I don't owe you, shoulda heard when I told you

You are an extension of what I've worked hard to build

You believe in your own lies, can't be real

And the odds is that what you love could kill you

Like a heart physician who dies from a heart attack

I know the consumer behavior, I target that

You impressed with what they wearin', I started that

It's kinda terrific, the product of Slick Rick

Somebody woulda told me then I'll come outta this shit rich

And start up a business

I woulda thought they was playin'

All 'em **** I ran with

All that weight they was weighin'

A light bulb switched in my mind at the classes I cut

Just a spazz, puttin' racks in the blunt

The baddest I want, she wear Lipmatic to front

We buildin' businesses, you could be mad if you want

It's bubbly till it's bubbles we see

Drinkin' like Dean Martin is nothin' to me

The spirits is somethin' I can't part and it's fun to be me

So cheers, here's to the Kanye production this eve

War of the Roses, it's war, baby

My **** High said it's me

I drive 'em all crazy

(I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm)

(I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna)

(I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna)