Gudda Gudda - I Don't Like The Look Of It lyrics

[Intro] I don't like the look of it [Verse 1: Gudda Gudda] Okay, I'm sippin on the syrup, got a n***a movin slow I'm all about the money, what the f** you think I do it for? b**h don't act like you don't know, I'm k**in all these rap n***as Custom made caskets for yo' motherf**in funeral Keep the women with me, sh** I gotta keep like two or more Party everyday, like we won the f**in Super Bowl Chillin wit my n***a Mack, he keep b**hes handy White girl on the table, let 'em sniff the nose candy When I'm walkin by, the women sayin, "Who is that n***a?" I replied, "Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that n***a!" I was raised in the home of the cap splitters Whip on 24's, watch it crawl like a caterpillar I come with a toy boy like a Happy Meal And you's a motherf**in duck, Daffy Dill I'm from the school of hard knocks, where we scrap and k** Pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal I'm hot n***a, burnin 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'll never crown me Realest n***a doin it just ask the n***as 'round me So you cain't size me up or try to clown, uh Shark in the water, jump in and I'mma drown ya New Orleans n***a, gun out, I'mma down ya Put n***as to sleep like a muthaf**in downer I'm a Great White, you'se a flounder Fish and a b**h, I tuna eveything around ya U-Haul Gudda, movin everything around ya It's Young Money, b**h! At the top is where they found us, n***a [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Uh, goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em Silence on the gun, watch a n***a mute 'em The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden School these n***as, they all my students All jokes aside, I ain't playin with ya The weed broke down, like a transmission Tha chopper spin him 'round, like a ballerina b**h I'm still spittin like I ate a jalapeno I'm from uptown, my b**h 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**, everything paid out You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade house With a high yellow thick b**h wit her legs out Cash Money president, but we in a red house Who the f** want it? Make my f**in day I blow your candles out, now n***a cut the cake I gotta eat, b**h! Like a runaway Y'all n***as ain't eatin, stomach ache Okay, all these b**hes, and n***as still hatin I used to be ballin, but now I'm Bill Gatein f**in with my iPhone, bumpin' Illmatic I'm on the road to riches, there's just a lil' traffic Hair still platted, thuggin is a habit Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz Bunch of bad b**hes and I f** 'em like rabbits Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh