A Milli

Young Money! You dig? Mack I'm going in A millionaire I'm a Young Money millionaire, tougher than Nigerian hair My criteria compared to your career just isn't fair I'm a venereal disease like a menstrual bleed Through the pencil I leak on the sheet of the tablet in my mind Cause I don't write shit cause I ain't got time Cause my seconds, minutes, hours go to the almighty dollar And the almighty power of that ch-cha-cha-chopper Sister, brother, son, daughter, father, mother-fuck a copper Got the Maserati dancing on the bridge, pussy popping Tell the coppers ha-ha-ha-ha, you can't catch 'em, you can't stop 'em I go by them goon rules, if you can't beat 'em then you pop 'em, you can't man 'em then you mop 'em, you can't stand 'em then you drop 'em You pop 'em cause we pop 'em like Orville Redenbacher Mothafucka, I'm ill A million here a million there Sicilian bitch with long hair, with coke in her derriere Like smoke in the thinnest air, I open the Lamborghini Hoping them crackers see me like look at that bastard Weezy He's a beast, he's a dog, he's a mothafuckin' problem Okay, you're a goon but what's a goon to a goblin? Nothing, nothing, you ain't scaring nothing On some faggot bullshit, call 'em Dennis Rodman Call me what you want, bitch, call me on my Sidekick Never answer when it's private, damn I hate a shy bitch Don't you hate a shy bitch? Yeah, I ate a shy bitch And she ain't shy no more, she changed her name to My Bitch Yeah, nigga, that's my bitch, so when she ask For the money when you through, don't be surprised, bitch It ain't trickin' if you got it But you like a bitch with no ass: you ain't got shit Motherfucka I'm ill, not sick and I'm okay, but my watch sick Yeah, my drop sick, yeah, my Glock sick, and my knot thick, I'm it Mothafucka, I'm ill They say I'm rapping like B.I.G, Jay, and 2Pac André 3000, where is Erykah Badu at? Who that? Who that said they gon' beat Lil' Wayne? My name ain't Bic, but I keep that flame, man Who that one that do that boy, you knew that, true that, swallow And I be the shit, now you got loose bowels I don't O U like two vowels But I would like for you to pay me by the hour And I'd rather be pushing flowers Than to be in the pen sharing showers Tony told us this world was ours And the Bible told us every girl was sour Don't play in her garden and don't smell her flower Call me Mr. Carter or Mr. Lawn Mower Boy, I got so many bitches like I'm Mike Lowrey Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me Mothafucka, I say life ain't shit without me Chrome lips poking out the coupe, look like it's pouting I do what I do and you do what you can do about it Bitch, I can turn a crack rock into a mountain, dare me Don't you compare me cause there ain't nobody near me They don't see me but they hear me, they don't feel me, but they fear me I'm illy, C3, 3 Peat