You Gotta Love It (feat. Max B)

Okay, first off, you a bitch ****

Only reason I'm doin' this

I'ma just name five reasons real quick, got 150, got 150

First, you stole Roc-A-Fella from Dame

Second, you stole Kanye from Dame

Third, you stole Rocawear from Dame

Fourth, I seen the **** throw that diamond up before them shots was fired

Hold on, turn the beat off

I had to turn the beat off for this

You talkin' 'bout you a '80s baby, you thirty-seven years old

You was born in 1968 and I open the Daily News

How's the king of New York rockin' sandals with jeans?

Open-toe sandals with chancletas with jeans on

How's the king of New York rockin' sandals with jeans and he forty-two years old?

Back to business

You ain't the only one with big wallets

Got it, my shits brollic, dot it

But your publishing should go to Ms. Wallace

Honest, stealing Big's shit, he made two albums, you wilding

And he can't dress, dawg, who styled him?

It was Rocawear when Dame had it

Now you got it, call it Cockawear, huh, not in here

Dead it pronto, you won't see a car, no

Dame and Biggs' bitch for years, now you Juan ho

He own the 40/40, got you in Atlantic City

Pitch your budget outta Baseline, goddamn, it's pretty

You love a Harlem ****, we get it cooking, it's true

But now I look, we got more dudes in Brooklyn than you

Apparently, right? Down in Jeezy video

I should've kissed you on the cheek, you a pretty ho

And Jaz video, you starred in it, Peter Pan

I was hopping off the Greyhound, Peter Pan

How could he be the man? Ha, only reason fam

I don't suck dick or kiss ass and I'm conceited, damn

But we hawk yo, right where you walk, bro

You can fool the rest of the world long as New York know

We put you under ground, clown, they gon' check the cellars

I know he forty years old, I don't respect my elders

I respect the hustlers, plus the grinders and the sellers

You's a customer, buster, here go jet propellers

You got to hate us the way we getting this paper

All my **** are coming straight from minimum wages

**** dick-riding the Dip, steady trying to play us

They tryna spray us, but Ferraris, we got 'em new flavors

Dipset! Hitting forty and ****, we tote the guns

Dipset! This is 40th, ****, we from the slums

Dipset! Pushing forty, ****, you not the one

It's Killa season, holla at a **** 'cause here it come

You got to hate us the way we getting this paper

All my **** are coming straight from minimum wages

**** dick-riding the Dip, steady trying to play us

They tryna spray us, but Ferraris, we got 'em new flavors

Dipset! Hitting forty and ****, we tote the guns

Dipset! This is 40th, ****, we from the slums

Dipset! Pushing forty, ****, you not the one

It's Killa season, holla at a **** 'cause here it come

Killa! Let's go (Bitch ****)

Who can fuck with me? No mammal, but we tote handles

At your open toe sandals, and you look like Joe Camel

Off of Roc-A-Fella, right? No contact

But bust this fly joint they put inside his contract

I left the label right, lot of cats wonder how

Every time I diss that label, I get fined a hundred thou'

Just for telling y'all, I get fined a hundred thou'

Huh, them cats are ill, five times a half a mil'

Want to play, like a bumper sticker smack a grill

Paul Wall cap a grill, but them cats are daffodils

East Coast, West Coast, slang, yo cap get peeled

Down in Houston, ask B, I'm a mack for real

Hackie tell me, respect, better dwell me

Beyoncé fiancé, check my second LP

I might bring it back, that's your girl, that's your world

Had the thing fucking singing 'bout slinging crack

Mr. Roc-A-Fella stop, stop, stop it fella

Still got our acapellas, but I will Akinyele-ya

(Put it in ya mouth, uh, put it in ya mouth)

It ain't my fault I'm raw, I'm sorry B, but I want a war

And he stabbed Un over Charli Baltimore

Sucker for love, hmm-hmm, sucker for love

Kill a bitch, go to trial, hand be stuffed in the glove

I'ma hop in the bed, dawg gon' just pop off her head

Tell ol' Jay-Z chill, Cochran is dead

You got to hate us the way we getting this paper

All my **** are coming straight from minimum wages

**** dick-riding the Dip, steady trying to play us

They tryna spray us, but Ferraris, we got 'em new flavors

Dipset! Hitting forty and ****, we tote the guns

Dipset! This is 40th, ****, we from the slums

Dipset! Pushing forty, ****, you not the one

It's Killa season, holla at a **** 'cause here it come

You got to hate us the way we getting this paper

All my **** are coming straight from minimum wages

**** dick-riding the Dip, steady trying to play us

They tryna spray us, but Ferraris, we got 'em new flavors

Dipset! Hitting forty and ****, we tote the guns

Dipset! This is 40th, ****, we from the slums

Dipset! Pushing forty, ****, you not the one

It's Killa season, holla at a **** 'cause here it come