Gudda, yeah

Okay, I'm leanin' to the left, flag in my right pocket
Star Trek fly, unidentified flying object
Extraterrestrial, I'm all about my decimals
Retarded in the booth, they say I got a special flow
Sicker than your average, you rappers is ass backwards (backwards)
Gudda spit crack and you niggas is crack addicts
It's simple mathematics, you cut the check
And I rake in the green like I'm rakin' the grass in
Pretty bitches damn near faint when they passin'
Call my whip Martin, but the first name Aston
Potato-head niggas get mashed when I'm spazzin'
Think you fuckin' with me? Put your cash in
Nah, I doubt it
I was young and reckless when P say he was about it
You niggas is ducks, Howards, cowards
Kill the competition and shower niggas with flowers
This rap shit is ours, Gudda, bitch

Uh, Uptown back in it, Hollygrove black menace
Black clothes, black tennis', black semi'
I've never sat in the Hemi, that will offend me
Try Maybach or Maybach, bitch, I got stacks
Yeah, Paychecks on paychecks and I still want payback
I still don't play that, I kill on ASAP
And we don't do shit but get money all day
Put some shoes on my bullets, now they runnin' your way
YM, Young Mula, Young Money all day
Where the drugs so sweet like honey on yay
Which one of y'all say you want drama? I'm honored
I blitz your ass like a motherfuckin' lineman
Stack of paychecks with a whole bunch of commas
Still wear red like an old 49er
Fuck shittin' on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
Weezy F baby, bitch I'm hotter than Uganda
Ugh

Let-let go
Mo-momma ain't make me to make homies, she made me to make history
So doing that my extra-curricular activity
Bulldozer boy and my target is the industry
Two things in the world I love, good head and victory
You ain't doin' it big, I'm grown, stop kiddin' me
Your whip ain't up to date and your hoes look like Mr. T
This is Misery (yep), no Kathy Bates
Come at me sideways, my money'll slap you straight
Yeah, I'm a big joker, so you know I'll smash your ace
Leave the club with ya girl, send her home with a ashy face
Love is a gamble, but it's my casino
And tonight you're the loser, I hope she got Aveno
I hope the game got life insurance 'cause I'mma kill it
And all you wack-ass rap niggas dying with it
I'm so Harlem, eating but still starvin'
Po-pockets fat as fuck like all they do is eat margarine
Millz

Say, put the flow
Say, put the flow in the pot, crank up the notch
Burn the song from a stove top, this finger-lickin' hot
His bitch flip 'cause the nigga flopped
My shit hit like the pitch was soft, niggas cotton-balled
She drop drawers, then she pop it off
Her pussy crossed guard, but I don't stop at all
I smash in the car, like fuck the fucking law
Her baby daddy gone, who wanna meet Sadam?
That Rocky shit up on the arm-arm
Shitting on 'em like hay in the barn
Hey wait they say Money talks and man, you don't speak at all
You shop at mini-malls
My style two thumbs up like using analogs
Haha, I wreck shit for the recognition, bitch
Jesus as my witness, Satan vision
I boil niggas, flame flicker
I melt pictures, Tyga skin ain't drippin'

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Carl Lilly, Dwayne Carter, Jarvis Millz, Michael Cadahia, Michael Stevenson, Unknown Writers