Lyrics

[Intro: Birdman & Nicki Minaj] Yeah Cut it up, gimme a light Yeah, and by the way, nigga It's Young Mula First Lady Uh, yo, yo [Verse 1: Nicki Minaj] Let us begin with a bad lil' specimen Balenciagas, only things I be stepping in Pucci bathing suits, only thing I'm dressing in 'Cause I get wetter than a navy seal veteran Got-got 'em writing love letters in they journal Keep 'em on they toes like a midget at the urinal Bad-bad-bad-bad-bad-bad as I wanna be She ain't bad, she a sad little wannabe [Interlude: Birdman] Yeah, fuck the bullshit It's big money popping Young Mula Yeah, just like that What up? Let's go [Verse 2: Gudda Gudda] Okay, we running this shit Whеn we walk in the building Got bitches from wall to wall Hoеs hanging from the ceiling Young Money we 'bout to kill 'em I promise I make a million And if they didn't have no hands I'll bet them bitches gon' feel 'em I'm talking money and power You getting money? I doubt it Fresher than baby powder With your bitch in the shower That pussy, I'ma devour I beat it up 'til it's sour No need for you to even tri Bitch, I'll be done in a hour, let's go [Verse 3: Lil Wayne] They say the blacker the berry, the redder the cherry I say the sweeter it is—you dig? Buried Then the bullshit varies, and it got me wary But I know two are the same Call it "murdered" and "married" Hustling is so necessary, with no adversaries But ain't no love, like a calendar with no Februaries I'ma need four secretary, and four Bloody Maries I'ma go eat me some pussy, and choke off the cherry I'm gone [Interlude: Birdman] Yeah, fully loaded with it To the ceiling with it More money than you ever seen Aight, Drizzy, Drake— [Verse 4: Drake] Look, kill the game, no one recovers the murder weapon Young angel, if you hate me tell me burn in heaven How'd ya sleep on me? The highest earning freshmen Like your third infection, I hope you learned your lesson Yeah, I spit raw, but I prefer protection I own a heart and a mind and a shirt she slept in Bitch, I got the answer, and still ain't heard the question I shut your club down, please reserve my section Fuck a confrontation, there ain't no cake in it And I'm caking, bitch, so tell me why I'd take a break from it The mother of your child always tell you I'm her favorite She call me her baby Not the one she was in labor with She say, "Ooh, you taste good," I say, "Ooh, just savor it" She know that she love a nigga, I be on that major shit 'Cause I get paid to stand, and I get paid to sit So I don't walk around with money, baby girl I'm made of it