LYRICS
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Boy, I'm tryna tell youFuck it, go in off the muscleNiggas never love you, don't respect your hustleEvery time they see you, dap you up in publicSecond that you turn your back, they all like, "Fuck you"What the fuck wrong with these niggas?I wouldn't even get on a song with these niggasYou might as well go put a thong on these niggasI smell the perfume or cologne on these niggasAh, time to turn up in the cityI pull up broad day with that choppa, let's get itThese niggas act like they can't get they issueBring Swerve out the cut and I send him to get youPull up like, "Who wanna see me? "Try me if you don't believe meI got 'em like, "Who Baby Jesus?The one that cashed out on that new yellow Beamer? "No play-play, no play-play, I'm bustin'I'm 'bout whatever, won't back down from nothin'Perfected my craft, exercising my muscleTwo guns in the club, kill the first nigga touch meThat's why I be chilling and minding my businessI'm half-way retarded, my mind is the sickestWelcome to Charlotte, and this how we livin'From East to the West, better be 'bout your businessIn North to the South, fuck around, get your issueRe-up in Charlotte then come with your pistolDon't leave it in the car, I bring it in here with mePlease don't get me started 'cause I don't like quittin'On I-85 blowing smoke out the windowVroom, I'm Ricky Bobby, I send hits like BoosieThe first nigga try me, I pay for the bodiesJust call me John Gotti, yeahIt ain't shit to send a hitSend a on the Gram, hit your bitchGot a Mac-11, 32 in the clipKeep a. 45 with 15 shots off the hipPocket monster, we strapped up in the V. I. PFuck the security, we in the club with them pistolsCatch him slipping, go knock the mug off a niggaAsk what happened, "Sorry, I do not remember, " damnKnow how we do in the fold (Charlotte)No pressure, I know what do wit' your hoBet I make her feel special, I know what to tell herI sell her a dream, let her put on my necklaceThen give her right back, know I had to finesse herBaby Jesus got more bitches than ElvisYou know I got 'em, got me feeling like WelvinYou already know that all dogs go to heavenAll my dogs is some felonsFuck the law, ain't no tellin'I switched up the pace on the rentalPull up on whoever, just tell me who want itI'm flat about all the subliminal messagesMy confirmation and niggas respect the shitI go to work like a muhfuckin' MexicanI'm so unimpressed with these niggasI expected the best from these niggasI'm disappointed, that's to say the leastSomebody wake me up, I'm on the way to sleepI find it funny how these niggas changing on me like I didn't do this thing by my lonelyLike I ain't put work in, no handouts, I earned it, please don't say my name, lil' nigga, you don't know meI make it look easy, but don't get it twisted, you ain't built for this shit, I promiseI love getting money, I love getting pussy, and both of 'em come with a whole lot of problemsI'm the future of rap in my city, not to mention I'm known to fuck up some commasWhat you niggas know about taking niggas money just to go and give it to your mama?If I love you, I will never let you struggle, I'll give you my last, know I got yaAnd it's Baby Jesus, you already know it, ayy
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