lil wayne - i don't like the look of it lyrics
“i don’t like the look of it”
(with gudda gudda)
[gudda gudda]
ok im sippin on the syrup
got a n-gga moving slow
i’m all about the money
what the f-ck you think i do it for
b-tch don’t act like you don’t know
i’m killing all these rap n-ggas
custom made caskets for you m-th-f-cka funerals
keep the women with me
sh-t i gotta keep like two or more
party everyday like we won the f-cking superbowl
chillin wit my n-gga mack, he keep b-tches handy
white girl on the table love them sniff nose candy
when i’m walking by the women say “who is that n-gga?”
i replied “hi, i am gudda gudda that n-gga”
i was raised in the home of da cap splitters
whip on 24′s watch it crawl like a caterpillar
i come with a toy boy like a happy meal
and yous a m-th-f-ckin’ duck, daffy dill
i’m from the school of hard knocks, where we scr-p and kill
pick the knife or gunner, you can get the package deal
i’m hot n-gga, 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 n-gga doin it just ask the n-ggas around me
so you cant size me up or try to clown uh
shark in the water jump in and imma drown ya
new orleans n-gga, gun out, imma down ya
put n-ggas to sleep like a m-th-f-ckin’ downer
imma great white, yous a flounder
fish and a b-tch i tuna eveything around ya
u-haul gudda, moving everything around ya
it’s young money b-tch
at the top is where they found us
[lil wayne]
uhh, goons on deck
marley don’t shoot em’
silence on the gun
watch a n-gga mute em’
the coach in the booth
call me jon gruden
school these n-ggas, they all my students
all jokes aside, i ain’t playin’ wit cha
the weed broke down, like a transmission
tha choppa spin him round, like a ballerina
b-tch i’m still spittin like i ate a jalapeã±o
i’m from uptown, my b-tch 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 sh-t, everything paid out
you could catch me courtside in dwayne wade’s house
wit a high yellow thick b-tch wit 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 n-gga cut that cake
i gotta eat b-tches, like a run-away
y’all n-ggas ain’t eatin, stomach ache
ok, all these b-tches, and n-ggas still hatin
i used to be ballin’, but now i’m bill gate’n
f-ckin with my iphone, b-mpin illmatic
i’m on the road to riches, there’s just a lil traffic
hair still platted, thuggin is a habbit
keep my guitar, hip-hop lenny kravitz
bunch of bad b-tches and i f-ck em like rabbits
dope d-ck weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uhh
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