White House ft. FatRay100, Dave Hill & B. Lewie Lyrics

Baby I can't be your nigga that's impossible

I got a bitch but you knew that

Why you trying to play

I heard you say that little pussy got some power huh

Well show me something bitch

You know I'm from the show me state

These niggas funny as hell gee king they homies up

They telling me they homies something that they homies ain't

I told Uncle show me some chicken but he showed me steak

You won't understand because your brain only eight

Uncle like to snort the dope off the paper joint

So he ain't got to wash no dishes he can fold the plate

On some shit like that

Yawl don't hear me though

Yawl don't catch my drift

Little bro was fucked up

I told him come catch this zip

Just do your thang

I don't want nothing

You don't owe me shit

When you get up still play broke to test your bitch

And if she pass get her a Rolex

Let her flex her wrist

I'm Mr. Jones around this bitch how I step on shit

I got a problem with authority don't tell me shit

Too acrobatic with a package you can tell we flipped

Down to my last leg to get there we limped

Hit up Hutch to repair my tints

Told them keep it dark but add prescription to the lenses

That's so Raven to the paper I can see it in my vision

If you can't take the heat then you can't be up in the kitchen

Baby when it's cash money Master P when it's the limits

Don't want none of them

Shooting for the top I brought the ammo

Brett Favre in the huddle, too much cheese in this Lambo

First blood wrap the clip across my chest keep it Rambo

Cause everywhere the sun shine somewhere its going to be shadows

Wake up with a toaster think we tryna make a pop tart

I only want money I watch Forbes not no pop charts

My niggas hit the corners tryna make it to them top parts

Was slapping them together they learned how to make the rocks spark

Running to this money in some Yeezy 700s

Chain Triple 7 I put up a triple double

Pressing all her buttons I ain't even get the number

Balenciaga euro stepping going up and under

2 bitches giving brain going dumb and dumber

She like the wood Cartier's now I'm laying lumber

When you boss up through the hate that's going to make them love you

Throwing 100's in the club got the cold ones taking cover

Bring the bottles with the sparkles I ain't tryna argue

See my barber got me buttered I ain't talking margarine

Your bitch jump from team to team I guess she think she Harden

Got a chopper in a charger no we not the army

Tan and black FN with me like my best friend

Baby from the east I'm about to take her to the Westin

Neck and wrist froze money old it need a bedpan

Penthouse and the hotel you can tell I got that check in