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I Don't Like The Look Of It
by
Lil' Wayne
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Lyrics
Gudda! Okay, I’m sippin on the syrup Got a nigga moving slow I’m all about the money What the f*ck you think I do it for? Bitch don’t act like you don’t know I’m killing all these rap niggas Custom made casket for your motherf*ckin’ funerals Keep the women with me Shit I gotta keep like two or more Party everyday like we won the f*cking Superbowl Chillin wit my nigga Mack, he keep bitches handy White girl on the table, let ‘em sniff the nose candy When I’m walking by the women say “Who is that nigga?” I reply: “Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that nigga” I was raised in the home of the Cap Splitters Whip on 24’s, watch it crawl like a caterpillar I come with a toy boy like a Happy Meal And you’s a motherf*ckin’ duck, Daffy Dill I’m from the school of Hard Knocks, where we scrap and kill Pick the knife or gun and you can get the package deal I’m hot nigga, burning everything around me I was lost for a minute, took a while but I found me The streets say I’m King, but the game will never crown me Realist nigga doin’ it, just ask the niggas around me So you can’t size me up or try to clown uh Shark in the water, jump in and I’mma drown ya New Orleans nigga, gun out, I’mma down ya Put niggas to sleep like a motherf*ckin’ downer I’m a Great White, you’s a flounder Fish and a bitch, I tuna everything around ya U-Haul Gudda, moving everything around ya It’s Young Money bitch At the top is where they found us nigga Uhh, goons on deck Marley don’t shoot ‘em Silence on the gun Watch a nigga mute ‘em The coach in the booth Call me Jon Gruden School these niggas, they all my students All jokes aside, I ain’t playin’ witcha The weed broke down, like a transmission The Choppa spin him round, like a ballerina Bitch I’m still spittin’ like I ate a Jalapeno I’m from Uptown, my bitch from Argentina My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena Stunt so hard, it’s all y’all fault And when it come to beef, give me A1 Sauce I ain’t worryin’ ’bout shit, everything paid out You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade’s house With a high yellow thick bitch, with her legs out Cash Money President but we in a red house Who the f*ck want it? Make my f*ckin’ day I blow your candles out, now nigga cut the cake I gotta eat bitch, like a run-away Y’all niggas ain’t eatin’, stomach ache Okay, all these bitches and niggas still hatin’ I used to be ballin’, but now I’m Bill Gatein’ f*ckin’ with my iPhone, bumpin’ Illmatic I’m on the road to riches, there’s just a lil traffic Hair still platted, thuggin’ is a habit Keep my guitar, Hip Hop Lenny Kravitz Bunch of bad bitches and I f*ck ‘em like rabbits Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict Uhhh Haha
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