Yo, why these bitches in the game gettin’ serious for?
I was just playin’ when I said you looked liked Curious George
I mean, I was in the SL, ice on the bezel
I ain’t mad at you lil’ mama, you a sketel
I’m a winner, you that thing that start with a “S.L.”
Rhyme with a cruiser, end with a r-ra
Yup, you’re a loser, I am a super star-ah
F.A.B.O., I do it, like Toccara
‘Cause ya’ll some Dylon hoes
Tryna fuck up my band, I fuck with Nylon holes
I got the pumps and the bumps, the pumps in the trunk
In case I gotta spazz, and blast you mudda cunt
I had to laugh at that one
Bitch get outta line, I’mma slap the fat one
I’m such a maniac
Where Wayne at? I’m tryna get some, brainiac
I gets down, like when niggas is shootin’
Mami, I style wild, like when niggas is lootin’
Hoes is mad, ’cause these hoes is losin’
They do a lot of walkin’, I do a lot of cruisin’
Put the top in the back of trunk
Take off a shoe, slap a bitch with the back of the pump
I ain’t never had a problem giving bitches the business
Pop bitches in the eye, like I finished my spinach
I’m a New York broad, spend chips in the village
Hopped out the yellow cab, oops, the yellow Jaguar
Girls don’t like me, guess it’s the swagger
Don’t talk to me ’bout, chicks got skills
She’s alright, but she’s not real
Listen big homie, I’m that deal
I say I body bitches, mean that bitch got killed
Riding the baseline, like I’m ‘Quil O’Neal

Now how many bitches do it take to knock me down
You know bitches gon’ hate
But I don’t give a fuck who you bodied on tape
I’m into movin’ weight mami in and out of state
Let’s get it now

Now how many bitches do it take to knock me down
You know bitches gon’ hate
But I don’t give a fuck who you bodied on tape
I’m into movin’ weight mami in and out of state
Let’s get it now