Biatch

What's happenin', what's happenin'?
You got to love this here, nigga
My boys, my Hot Boys
Juve' and Jeezy
'Bout to lace this game, nigga (uh-huh, uh-huh)
Do it the way we do it with E-4-0 Charlie Hustle

Look, I went from rags to riches, stank hoes to bad bitches
Stealin' niggas cars to TV's in Expeditions
Thuggin' is how I play it everyday all day
I keep it all the way real, I can't see it no other way
I represent mines, Hot Boys
Slip up my whole click rides, get shot, boy
That's how it go, we straight do or die, we checkmate holdin' niggas
Then come where yo' mama lay down and kick in the do' nigga
(Juvenile, Juvenile, Juvenile)

Let's get this shit cracklin'
My probation officer's gonna know what happened
Stay out the way I'm H-O-T and 'bout that action
Hooded up with dem slugs and face-maskin', camouflage fashion
I'm all about that luxury (luxury) I'm also 'bout
Puttin' fifty in yo' head, boy, if you thinkin' 'bout fuckin' me
I'ma be here fo' a minute (what else?)
You gotta respect it (uh-huh)
There's a lot of niggas out here gettin' killed to accept it

Biatch

Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)
Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)

Charlie Hustle on it in the fast lane, drivin' slow
With a case of tall cans and some broccoli and a bad-ass ho
Squattin' four times ga-uh gold Zenith wides and vogues
'Bout snuffin' down, right next to me, is the call from the frogs
Uh, sound system on bloo-blam-blam
Puffin' on the doobie almost grubbed, dang it burnt in my lap (burnt in my lap)
Smokin' trees with the window up (windows up)
Traffic backed up, middle finger up
I don't associate or surround myself with CI's
Confidential informants, snitches, affidavits, stool pigeons
Marks simple Simon sucker sap simps I be kickin' it real tough
With the, PI's, hustlers, tycoons
Gangsters killers that might not even look like
With trophies up under they shelf, sky ballers, all kind of Benz's
Player type individuals, thugged out times a thousand
Those nigga-ish niggaroles, lieutenants bosses, gazillionaires
New millennium wars high rollers real as hoodlums thugs
House parties strip joints gamblin' shacks and hole in the wall clubs

Biatch

Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)
Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)

Man, it's like neighborhood shit with a gangster bitch
So get yo' paper straight, nigga and go and buy some shit
TV's inside when I ride bitch
And I'ma hide these hoes behind limo tints
Fulfill my dreams, I'm a rich bitch
And when I hit yo' hood, I'ma blind a bitch
Shine, tape sellin' got me buyin' shit
Dyin'? Gon' be here past ninety-nine, slick
Rewind, these hoes back to time, slick
So nigga slap that bitch, bat that batch
Kick her in the ass and tell that ho Hot Boy in this bitch
So nigga fuck that bitch, tell her suck yo' dick (now, now)

Here come the youngest (youngest), Wayne (Wayne), you can call me Weezy (Weezy)
Flyin' up the interstate in a Lamborghini ('ghini)
Police right behind me, I'm drivin' too fast (broom)
I pull over on the grass (skrrt), they want my autograph (why?)
I flipped off keys, I get my G's
I spit my three's if you twist my cheese
I'm duckin' white sheets and I avoid the Feds
If you think that you can stop us, boy go ahead

Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)
Freezer burn platinum on my pinky (look at me)
Squattin' twenty inch Twinkies (look at me)
I'm like that, it's like that, what?
I'm like that, it's like that (look at me)

Biatch

E-Feezy and the HB's in this motherfucker man (the Hot Boys)
Juvenile (Bosco) you heard about me
The BG (uh-huh) the number one stunna (uh-huh, uh-huh)
Baby Thirty-Two Gold ya heard me?
The Bay Area, and the U-P-T (uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh)
We connected nigga, you gotta respect it
It's off the heezy
Uh, uh (what, biatch)

(Hot, hot)

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Bosco Kante, Brian Williams, Christopher Dorsey, Dwayne Carter, Earl Stevens, Jeffrey Page, Joe Cooley, Rodney Oliver, Terius Gray