We In This Bitch

Lyrics

[Intro: Future] Pluto Drama (We in this bitch) Astronaut talking [Chorus: Future & Jeezy] We got money in our pocket (Rack), and whatever you're sippin' on Red-bottom limpin' around this bitch, what the fuck you trippin' on? Twenty goons, they in this bitch (Yeah), you better check your tone And they gon' put you back in place if you do somethin' wrong (Salute) We in this bitch (We in this bitch) We in this bitch Yeah, we in this bitch (Yeahhh) We got a section full of girls and they barely speak any English (No comprede, yeah) Let's toast it up to that life and I mean it (Let's go) [Verse 1: Jeezy] We in this bitch (In this bitch), we in this hoe (Hoe) I got the .40 on me now, I'm worse than Plaxico (Yeah) Shout to Gangsta Gibbs, he the next to blow (Blow) You should see my gangsta grill, I light the shit from blow (Damn) Snow ya car transformin', is it a Transformer? ('Former) You ever cook the whole thing on a George Foreman? (Yeah) What about a nine on the gas grill? (Gas grill) Four-fifty for the zip, paid my gas bill (What?) So many horses in the 'Rari, park it in a barn (Woo) Took the ice up out my cup and put it in my charm And this bad bitch wit' me from another planet (Planet) Stay on the satellite phone, man, I can't stand it (Ha-ha) Hey, baby girl, hang the phone up (Hello?) No talkin' wit'cha mouth full, you's a grown-up What the fuck? (Fuck) Who the hell? (Hell) Flashback in this bitch, thought I seen a scale (Snow) [Chorus: Future & T.I.] We got money in our pocket (Rack), and whatever you're sippin' on Red-bottom limpin' around this bitch, what the fuck you trippin' on? Twenty goons, they in this bitch, you better check your tone And they gon' put you back in place if you do somethin' wrong (Salute) We in this bitch (We in this bitch, Aight Drama) We in this bitch Yeah, we in this bitch (Yeahhh, Ya'll ready know what we doing, right?) We got a section full of girls and they barely speak any English (No comprende) Let's toast it up to that life and I mean it (Let's get it, chea, hey) [Verse 2: T.I.] You know how we handle shit, gangsta gutter glamorous Zone One Atlanta shit, over all the amateurs I'm walkin' up in here a boss, so, dawg, approach with caution though Disrespect is tolerated, that's some shit you oughta know (Hey) Niggas say they ball, yeah, but I'm ballin' harder though Cold as the nose on a Appalachian Eskimo (Hey) It finna go down, hoe, pop-poppin' bottles, drown hoes Paid niggas wit' us, ain't no broke niggas around so Excuse me, who is he? I don't do this usually But I'm too fresh to fight, somebody go and get security I'm buyin' this, buyin' that, gettin' that check and flyin' jet Boucheron, Constantine, Puff like, where you find that? American at the nature, boy, a lot of nigga hate your boy Pocket full of money, got more paper than a paperboy Hoes jockin', on Twitter trending topic Future, Jeezy, 'Cris, and Drama, Tip say, "Let's go get it poppin'!" [Chorus: Future] We got money in our pocket (Rack), and whatever you're sippin' on Red-bottom limpin' around this bitch, what the fuck you trippin' on? Twenty goons, they in this bitch, you better check your tone And they gon' put you back in place if you do somethin' wrong (Salute) We in this bitch (We in this bitch) We in this bitch Yeah, we in this bitch (Yeahhh) We got a section full of girls and they barely speak any English (No comprede) Let's toast it up to that life and I mean it [Verse 3: Ludacris] Yeah, Luda I'm poppin' plenty bottles like I got plenty bricks (Bricks) Call me Mr. Marcus, I'm in this bitch Super drank, super smoke and some super hoes VIP looking like we won the fucking Super Bowl Thirsty chicks tryna give it, I don't want it You been in more laps than the Indy 500 (Woo) Conjure's what we drankin' (Drankin'), faded 'til the world end Never see me plankin' unless I'm on your girlfriend (Ohh) Ludacris, I been a staple in this Southern game Got the best lines, so I guess I'm slangin' Southern 'caine (Yeah) My money's louder, you rappers need to hush more My presidents rock, my accounts are Mount Rushmore (Ha) On the island and my phone is hittin' dead spots Altoid can of blue pills, that's my X-box You could hate, you could diss, you could make a wish But eight albums, and Luda's still in this bitch