Rick Ross - f**WitMeYouKnowIGotIt lyrics

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Rick Ross - f**WitMeYouKnowIGotIt lyrics

(Intro) I mean it's simple Can't f** wit us [Verse 1 : Lil Wayne] I got money on yo head I don't do my dirty work I cut off my hands, I don't even touch the work I pray these n***as don't f** with me And I don't like to curse in church And my girl' p**y taste just like Mrs. bu*terworth's I mean that, believe that Don't be short with that work n***a We find out where yo ho work n***a We follow your moms from church n***a You gonna have to swallow yo pride like a thirst quencher Get'em Tune I don't really f** around with certain n***as f** all yall n***as, except my n***as These n***as hustling backwards Check ya rear-view mirror and your side mirrors OG kush keep my mind clearer That choppa get yo mind right I got 2 choppas that's chopsticks Eat yo block up like shrimp fried rice Been so long since I seen my eyes white You know I smoke like dry ice Better stay in yo lane or get sideswiped It's going down, let me straighten up and fly right Still can't turn a ho into a housewife Man it's like some things will never change You ain't got a shot in a gun range These chumps ain't even got chump change Uh yea, and don't f** with me, you know I'm Gotti Check yourself before I sign it Yea, I'm shinin on these n***as, no horizon Yea, and it's going down if I'm her pilot Uh, my new car is so robotic My new b**h is so provided Money talks, yours like no comment Black car, racial profiling, rest in peace to Christopher Wallace Desert Eagle like the Mojave I get my work from Rico Suave uh It's a Rollie if I got time on my hand You ever see me broke? Write on my cast Boy my weed so good I cry when it's gone Had a phone in jail, that's a cellphone Yea, I'm bout to buy a machinegun We drink it all, leave clean cups, make mountains look like speed bumps I'm sittin on some train tracks Hopin' that b**h speed up I'm strong-arming these n***as, roll my sleeves up, yea I got bad b**hes on standby, all my hoes got cat eyes Celebrate when a rat die, make a n***a fall back like he getting baptized Put me in a hospital room, full of flat lines I'm Tunechi Lee immortal My name ringing, my name ringin, hello may I take yo order? I say… Testarossa over testimony Got so much sh** built up you could smell it on me f** all y'all n***as in Swahili n***a Ain't nothing free round here but Willy, n***a Ak-47, call it Mr. Biggs All my n***as blood, f** yo syringe Chop his head off, put it in the fridge Try not to mistake that sh** for dinner Dedication [Verse 2 : T.I.] Hey let me introduce you n***a to America most Every n***a round with me carry a tote Sadity b**hes like a n***a Tune on the low They just be like 10 and be doing the most Okay, Tune in the jet flyin over the boat I'm on the way from the Panama, I got a few on the boat What you n***as make a year; I could do with the blow You keep on playin with me, bet I'll put a few in you ho The fate of a f** n***a, we soon to see These n***as sweet as perfume to me I mean really like cartoon to me Ain't nobody f**in with Tune and me Hustle Gang, bang green, in God we trust Young Money Cash Money, they down with us I got a b**h who want yo b**h, you finna give the ho up And don't buck shawty listen, you don't really know us We a bust a n***a head, leave him layin for dead I get caught with a banger, I'ma lay in the feds In gen pop n***a every day in the feds I was chillin on the yard, really going hard And these p**y n***as catchin' feelings over broads King p**y n***a but I'm really like a god A town n***a, bank head I'm about it Everybody know "to f** with me cuz I got it"