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lirik lagu lil wayne - i don't like the look of it

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[intro]
i don’t like the look of it

[verse 1: gudda gudda]
okay, i’m sippin on the syrup, got a n-gga movin slow
i’m all about the money, what the f-ck you think i do it for?
b-tch don’t act like you don’t know, i’m k!llin all these rap n-ggas
custom made caskets for yo’ motherf-ckin funeral
keep the women with me, sh-t i gotta keep like two or more
party everyday, like we won the f-ckin super bowl
chillin wit my n-gga mack, he keep b-tches handy
white girl on the table, let ’em sniff the nose candy
when i’m walkin by, the women sayin, “who is that n-gga?”
i replied, “hi, i am gudda gudda, that n-gga!”
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-ckin duck, daffy dill
i’m from the school of hard knocks, where we scr-p and k!ll
pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal
i’m hot n-gga, 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-gga doin it just ask the n-ggas ’round me
so you cain’t size me up or try to clown a-
shark in the water, jump in and i’mma drown ya
new orleans n-gga, gun out, i’mma down ya
put n-ggas to sleep like a m-th-f-ckin downer
i’m a great white, you’se a flounder
fish and a b-tch, i tuna eveything around ya
u-haul gudda, movin everything around ya
it’s young money, b-tch! at the top is where they found us, n-gga

[verse 2: lil wayne]
uh, goons on deck, marley don’t shoot ’em
silence on the gun, watch a n-gga mute ’em
the coach in the booth, call me jon gruden
school these n-ggas, 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-tch i’m still spittin like i ate a jalapeno
i’m from uptown, my b-tch 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-t, everything paid out
you could catch me courtside in dwayne wade house
with a high yellow thick b-tch wit her legs out
cash money president, but we in a red house
who the f-ck want it? make my f-ckin day
i blow your candles out, now n-gga cut the cake
i gotta eat, b-tch! like a runaway
y’all n-ggas ain’t eatin, stomach ache
okay, all these b-tches, and n-ggas still hatin
i used to be ballin, but now i’m bill gatein
f-ckin 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-tches and i f-ck ’em like rabbits
dope d-ck weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh


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