Bangladesh Young Money! You dig? Yeah Mack, I'm goin' 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, and 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 dancin' on the bridge, pussy poppin' 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 (ooh) Muthafucka', I'm ill, yeah 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 Hopin' them crackers see me, like "Look at that bastard Weezy" He's a beast, he's a dog, he's a motherfuckin' problem Okay, you're a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin? Nothin', nothin', you ain't scarin' nothin' 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 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 Muthafucka', 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 Muthafucka', I'm ill, yeah, say- They say I'm rappin' like B.I.G, Jay, and Tupac 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 owe you like two vowels But I would like for you to pay me by the hour And I'd rather be pushin' flowers Than to be in the pen sharin' 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, they say she couldn't doubt me Muthafucka', I say, "Life ain't shit without me" Chrome lips pokin' out the coupe, look like it's poutin' 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