I Don't Like the Look of It (feat. Gudda Gudda)

I don't like the look of it

I don't like the look of it

I don't

Okay, I'm sippin' on the syrup

Got a **** movin' slow

I'm all about the money, what the fuck you think I do it for?

Bitch, don't act like you don't know

I'm killin' all these rap ****

Custom made casket for yo' motherfuckin' funeral

Keep the women with me, shit, I gotta keep like two or more

Party everyday like we won the fuckin' Super Bowl

Chillin' with my **** Mac, he keep bitches handy

White girl on the table, let 'em sniff the nose candy

When I'm walkin' by the women sayin' "Who is that ****?"

I replied, "Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that ****"

I was raised in the home of the cap splitters

Whip on 24's, watch it crawl like a caterpiller

I come with a toy, boy, like a Happy Meal

And you's a motherfuckin' duck, Daffy Dill

I'm from the school of hard knocks where we scrap and kill

Pick the knife or gun and you can get the package deal

I'm hot, ****, 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 **** doin' it, just ask the **** round me

So you can't size me up or try to clown a

Shark in the water, jump in and I'ma drown ya

New Orleans ****, gun out, I'ma down ya

Put **** to sleep like a motherfuckin' downer

I'm a great white, you's a flounder

Fish and a bitch, I tuna everything around ya

U-Haul Gudder, movin' everything around ya

It's Young Money, bitch, at the top is where they found us, ****

Uh, goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em

Silence on the gun, watch a **** mute 'em

The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden

School these ****, they all my students

All jokes aside, I ain't playin' with ya

The weed broke down like a transmission

The chopper spin around, like a ballerina

Bitch, I'm still spittin' like I ate a jalapeno

I'm from uptown, my bitch 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' about shit, everything paid out

You could catch me court side in Dwayne Wade house

With a high, yellow, thick bitch with her legs out

Cash Money president, but we in a red house

Who the fuck want it? Make my fuckin' day

I blow your candles out, now, ****, cut the cake

I gotta eat, bitch, like a runaway

Y'all **** ain't eatin', stomach ache

Okay, all these bitches and **** still hatin'

I used to be ballin', but now I'm Bill Gate-in'

Fuckin' with my iPhone, bumpin' Illmatic

I'm on the road to riches, there's just a little traffic

Hair still platted, thuggin' is a habit

Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz

Bunch of bad bitches and I fuck 'em like rabbits

Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh

I don't like the look of it