Big Sean — Fat Raps Remix

[Intro: Don Cannon & Chuck Inglish] Couldn't wait for this one Fat Raps remix Yeah Chuck Inglish [Verse 1: Chuck Inglish] And it's falling off the side like back fat Giving girls rides to the crib, not a rat trap Cheese, peanut butter freeze raps, I want all these snapped And it's back in the day, like a tall-tee tag I need that whip clean, G, what's the weather gon' be? Drop-top, no drips on this upholstery Supposed to be headed downtown, car wash like Bilal And my girl drive the Chevy while I break this tree down Roll the window back up; good, turn it back up Ugh, UGK: "Diamonds & Woods" Hold up, yeah, roll up, that's tight, that's right You do this right, you might have the time of your life [Verse 2: Dom Kennedy & Big Sean] Yo, coming from the Westside but my fitted say Sox Where you get banged on if you in it or not Looking like Caine 'cause I watch Menace (A lot) And I'm tryna fuck your friend, so is she with it or not? (Ah) Shout out to ATL 'cause I'm in Lennox a lot (Uh-huh) And I don't like looking, I go in there to cop Houston High Rollers, I go in there a lot Spending money with the strippers, you go in there to watch (Ugh) Blowing on L's (L), smelling like Chanel (Uh-huh) You say you the man, but dog, these bitches can't tell (Nah) But ladies love Dom 'cause I'm gettin that mail (C'mon) To make it out my hood is like to make it out of jail (Yeah) Put the tens up and start breaking out the twelves Bet I have your girlfriend shaking out her heels (Ugh) We shaking all deals (Ugh) and chasing all meals (Sean Don, nigga, boi, boi, boi) I'm popping all over, how you haters all feel, huh? (Okay) [Verse 3: Big Sean & Boldy James] Smoke good (Smoke good), fuck better (Fuck better) Count money (Count money), what's better? (What's better?) These lil' niggas can't hang (Can't hang) Big shit popping, bitch, and "Big" my first name, I'm a— Westsider ('Sider), Detroit player ('Troit player) Fuck around and I might bring back gators (Nigga, what?) Every day, I leave the crib with no money (With no money) And come back later with that motherfucking paper Finally Famous Over Errythang—that's just how I feel, bitch They tryna stop my shine, they yellin hit the kill switch Wrong nigga to deal with 'less you doing a deal with (Boi) Grind hard (Hard), that's how I was built, bitch Whoa there (Whoa there), whoa there (Whoa there), I'm who everybody know here I come through in the club and get more money than promoters ('Moter) Oh, that's your girl? (That's your girl?) I see her at my show there (Show there) I be off in the hood—I bet you don't ever go there Ayy, so slow there, boy, don't go there, boy It's people you dont know there, boy Young nigga that's addicted to the Polaroids (Flash) And I gave these niggas more lines than corduroy And my bitches be gorgeous, boy Showtime I hope you recording, boy, I'm out here (A lot) [Verse 4: Boldy James & Asher Roth] Let's re-up half of a brick and bring it back to the kitchen See the crack as it's fizzing, then bring it back when it's finished Jimbo put that on a dish and chisel it, bag it, and sell it Then Boldy factor the digits to know the cash that I'm flipping Six gon' get stashed in the ceiling, six O's in traffic I'm pitching this o; that one get split and get broke to halves And then, this one his O, and that one is his, and this O, I'm bagging And this one—this O the last one: Boldy a crack-a-matician (Concrete) Rolling the ave' 'cause I'm getting dough in that slab 'Cause I'm getting over, they mad I just grin and ball with my mag on my britches Know I'll blast if you tempt him, bro, you will crash in your whip With holes in your plaid 'cause you hit, going as fast as your engine Go when you smash in the strip, smoking a bag with your bitch Then, choking, gasping for breath, holding, grabbing your chest From Boldy magging that tech, unload it faster than Vick's It's Concrete, the school crafted the sick, bones and bricks (Yeah, yo) [Verse 5: Asher Roth] I be frustrated with the way that shit's been aging And I'm about to take a break and get away on a vacation, like Maybe Malaysia to escape through meditation I'll just eat, pray, and wait for my day of revelation, or I'll— Take peyote, roam the rivers of Nairobi Change my name to "Navajo" and live alone and only grow weed 'Cause this Naomi-flowing show gets pretty lonely Don't nobody ever know you, everybody call you homie, ugh Mo-ney, mo-ney, they'll be sure to treat you phony As soon as you hit your low, they won't be picking up the phone, see I move with calm to show these fools that I am home And when I'm on the microphone, all you wannabes can blow me, so Take this boner to the dome, you little Bo Peeps That may be inapprop-y but I'm certain-a-ly no sheep, see I only lead in this game of entertainment Roth and Big Sean, we on, Finally Famous [Verse 6: King Chip] Yeah, now roll ten of 'em up Fuck the rules, we Auntie Anne's pretzel-bending 'em up Don't give a fuck, word to your daddy leather sandals Either pay the light bill or light up them candles Regular White Owl cigarillo, no flavors Break that bitch down and peel off the first layer Smooth, like a baby's ass, Mercedes pass The ladies ask, "Can they be next?" 'cause I'm kicking their favorite raps Life is playing 2K and kicking raps all day by the lake Smoking tree 'til I collapse in broad-day I'm surfing, radical, gnarly, far out My stoner chicks gather 'round soon as I break the jar out Ayy, baby girl, pass the blizz-ard Your woman chose me, so I had to jizz her Don't be sleeping or taking no cat naps We leaders of the new school with these fat raps, nigga