Meek Mill — Ham Music

They ain’t fucking with me, New Orleans N.O Old school bitch I let her blow me like nintendo Black panamera, me and Mac are getting lit though Switching lanes in that thang 5 percent tint on the windows I got 20 in my pocket, 30 on wrist, 50 on my neck keep it 100 in this bitch Hey listen we don’t do no talking, I’m just running up in your shit And I was never in the walking, I’m just running up in your pick I say my swagger on infinity, money it ain't a limit Real nigga every day, start and to the finish You should hear this roar when I’m starting up the engine Sounding like a motherfucker lion barking all up in it Make a dollar every second, thousands on the hour 20 everyday, I’m getting money in the power I was told never let the youngins get the powder But now these niggas slipping like they're fucking in the shower Pause I really do this, I’m 6'2 and with Ricky Ross I’m getting to it, you niggas loosing shit, I’m a boss Yeah I took a loss, I was out in vegas Me and Gucci Poochy, shooting at the tables When I was broke, I used to have a dream Before I had a dream best believe I had them fiends Steady blowing up my celly, trying to get it any means My nigga swoochy in the kitchen working up the triple-beams Breaking ounces off the birdie, money it was dirty And hammers they was filthy cause niggas was trying to kill me And that’s word to Osama though Fuck a bitch and vamonos Niggas and they diss raps, they dont want no drama though Leaning off the prometh, sipping Aunt Jemima though Rollie all bussed down, call that perfect timing though Tell my jeweler freeze me, just to change the climate ho Bottom of the mountain and Meek Milly got the climbing though Your chick my chick, my chick your chick My swag fly shit, your swag, norbit Nigga you’re a weirdo, no match forfeit All these fucking bricks i’m thinking we gonn need a forklift Coolest on your stereo, I don’t think they hear me though Catch me in the hood, I be around just like the marry-go Used to sell them little O's I ain’t talking cheerios I’m talking about them golden grahams and I don’t eat no cereal Murder on your record label nigga I’m a serial Killer plus I’m realer this is scarier than thriller In the villa counting trilla, with shorty she vanilla As far as work, I make that fucking butter fly like caterpillars And my flow be on some other shit Hotter than an oven get I just got his girl's number, he gon' need another bitch Maker her fuck my other bitch, then put her on a punishment She said she in love with me and she dont know my government Shorty tripping, where your luggage at Broke niggas never seen me cause I'm where the money at All I know is hustle hard, like a got a hundred pack A nigga get my jewels, I'mma kill him, and I don't want them back Wear them to your funeral, be stunting while they're viewing you Momma wouldn't notice, she's like what the hell they do to you Clip full of hollow heads, make me put a few in you Yeah nigga, I will ruin you