Lyrics

[Intro] I don't like the look of it [Verse 1: Gudda Gudda] Okay, I'm sippin' on the syrup, got a nigga movin' slow I'm all about the money, what the fuck you think I do it for? Bitch, don't act like you don't know, I'm killin' all these rap niggas Custom made caskets for yo' motherfuckin' funeral Keep the women with me, shit, I gotta keep like two or more Party everyday, like we won the fuckin' Super Bowl Chillin' with my nigga Mack, he keep bitches handy White girl on the table, let 'em sniff the nose candy When I'm walkin' by, the women sayin', "Who is that nigga?" I replied, "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 motherfuckin' duck, Daffy-dil I'm from the school of hard knocks where we scrap and kill Pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal I'm hot, nigga, burnin' everything around me I was lost for a minute, took a while, but I found me (Gudda) The streets say I'm king but the game'll never crown me (Gudda) Realest nigga doin' it, just ask them niggas 'round me (Gudda) So you can't size me up or try to clown a— Shark in the water, jump in and I'ma drown you New Orleans nigga, gun out, I'ma down you Put niggas to sleep like a muh'fuckin' downer (Gudda) I'm a Great White, you's a flounder Fish and a bitch, I tuna eveything around you U-Haul Gudda, movin' everything around you (Yeah) It's Young Money, bitch! At the top is where they found us, nigga [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Uh, 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' with ya The weed broke down like a transmission The chopper spin him 'round, like a ballerina Bitch, I'm still spittin' like I ate a jalape-na 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 house With a high, yellow, thick bitch with her legs out Cash Money president, but we in a red house Who the fuck want it? Make my fuckin' day I blow your candles out, now, nigga, cut the cake I gotta eat, bitch! Like a runaway 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 Gate-in' Fuckin' 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 fuck 'em like rabbits Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh