[Produced by Mouse On Tha Track]
OK: no ceilings, motherfucker, good morning
Dick in your mouth while you're yawning, "I'm goin' in!"
Gudda, why they started me? Marley, why they started me?
I’ll bring it to your front door like you ordered me
Back in this bitch, but a lot more rich
On my Papa Bear shit, need hot porridge
Got a lot more shit than you could ever fathom
A big-head nigga couldn’t even imagine
The shit I do, most doers never done
I'mma fuck this beat and, bitch, you better cum!
Bet I run this shit, I don't run from shit
I still beat your ass like a fucking drumstick
Weezy Fucking Baby, baby, make the ladies come quick
The money can’t fit in my pockets, but I bet that gun fit
And I’m so unfit, cause all I eat is rappers
And these rappers ain't shit, I like my fast food faster
Syrup got me slow, like a turtle 'round this ho
And I'm flyer than the highest-flying bird around this ho
Whats the word around this ho? You get served around this ho
Yeah, you get served like a fucking hors d'œuvre around this ho
And I don’t splurge around no ho, no I don’t shine in front of no bitch
Cause after she get off my dick, I be like, "find the front door, bitch"
And I don't know why the fuck your bitch keep coming by
I done fucked your bitch a hundred times
What the fuck your bitch got on her mind?
My fucking dick; I call her dickhead, spicy like a Big Red
Strike you like a Bic head; your flow sick, my shit dead
Sillier than V.I.C. said, Soulja Boy and Arab
You should see my 11-year-old daughter do they dance
I call it the Nae-Nae dance; proud to be Nae-Nae’s dad
Gun on the waistline, leave you in the wasteland
We are not the same; I am a Martian, this is Space Jam
No ceilings, R.I.P., amen; motherfucking caveman
Beating on my chest, Young Money, Cash Money
And I'm eating all the rest, nigga
No offence, sorry if you're offended
Riding high like I'm on 54 inches
Man, I'd rather chill with 54 bitches
Ch-chill like, ch-chill like an Eskimo
Let's get mo', let's get mo' bitches
And I be like, "let's get mo' bitches"
Mr. Officer, stop arresting your bitches
Stop lettin' the messy hoes mess with your business
Mickey Mouse cheese, hip-hop Walt Disney
Sheesh, gosh, Oshkosh B’gosh
Smokin on that Bob Marley, listening to Pete Tosh
I-I-I do me; no, I do three
At a T-I-M-E
Why when we say we Young Mula
The bitches leave y'all, and relay run to us
And payday comes sooner than later round here
You see my sharks like I got some bait around here
Hey, you better stop the hate around there
Before Tommy, Mack, and Nina debate around there
Yeah, you see it in my face, I don’t care
Whole court hearing, trial, and the case around there
I'm the best thing yet, I know I got that thing wet
Everybody wanna be fly but don’t know where their wings at
...Had to pause for a minute
And I'm right back in it like the drawers of the women
On a scale of 1 to 10 and my girl be a 20
My girl's so bad, make a nigga think he's sinnin'
My goons are so gritty, my goons are so with me
Haters gotta go on iTunes to go get me
Gators by the doors, baboons and those grizzies
All come out me when I'm on the microphone in the
Mic check, 2, 3, I am different like blue pee
And my girls be half naked like Betty Boop be
Like a hoopty, man, the boy been riding
And I ain't gassed up, because I'm more like a hybrid
You think I'm stuntin', but no, I'm just surviving
And I’ve been here, but my soul is just arriving
Look up in the air, it's a crow, it's a robin
No Ceilings, full dose, I'm prescribing
Medication free, and for meditation we
Smoke some better tasting weed
Than you’ll ever taste or see
S-H-A-R-P as a tack, hotter than
Riding through a desert on a camel back
I done been riding through wherever with the hammer strapped
I ain't lying, I can do whatever if I'm planning that
So I got my guns, let's dance like FannyPack
And we cook the hard, cut the soft, and bring the whammies back
Mafio, bitch, where your motherfucking family at?
Call my nigga Gudda if you trying to get your Mammie back
All up in another nigga's woman, I be ramming that
Seeing through these see-through niggas like they laminate
Hip-hop so contaminate, I swear, just examine it
And I'm such a philanthropist, the god to these evangelists
I dress all Los Angeles, but I love Miami though
I am so New Orleans; yes, I go pistachios
That means I go nuts at any beat they throw at me
And the bitches is so at me
And you know what they throw at me?