White House (feat. FatRay100, Dave Hill & B. Lewie)

Baby I can't be your nigga that's impossible I got a bitch but you knew that Why you trying to play I heard you say that little pussy got some power huh Well show me something bitch You know I'm from the show me state These niggas funny as hell gee king they homies up They telling me they homies something that they homies ain't I told Uncle show me some chicken but he showed me steak You won't understand because your brain only eight Uncle like to snort the dope off the paper joint So he ain't got to wash no dishes he can fold the plate On some shit like that Yawl don't hear me though Yawl don't catch my drift Little bro was fucked up I told him come catch this zip Just do your thang I don't want nothing You don't owe me shit When you get up still play broke to test your bitch And if she pass get her a Rolex Let her flex her wrist I'm Mr. Jones around this bitch how I step on shit I got a problem with authority don't tell me shit Too acrobatic with a package you can tell we flipped Down to my last leg to get there we limped Hit up Hutch to repair my tints Told them keep it dark but add prescription to the lenses That's so Raven to the paper I can see it in my vision If you can't take the heat then you can't be up in the kitchen Baby when it's cash money Master P when it's the limits Don't want none of them Shooting for the top I brought the ammo Brett Favre in the huddle, too much cheese in this Lambo First blood wrap the clip across my chest keep it Rambo Cause everywhere the sun shine somewhere its going to be shadows Wake up with a toaster think we tryna make a pop tart I only want money I watch Forbes not no pop charts My niggas hit the corners tryna make it to them top parts Was slapping them together they learned how to make the rocks spark Running to this money in some Yeezy 700s Chain Triple 7 I put up a triple double Pressing all her buttons I ain't even get the number Balenciaga euro stepping going up and under 2 bitches giving brain going dumb and dumber She like the wood Cartier's now I'm laying lumber When you boss up through the hate that's going to make them love you Throwing 100's in the club got the cold ones taking cover Bring the bottles with the sparkles I ain't tryna argue See my barber got me buttered I ain't talking margarine Your bitch jump from team to team I guess she think she Harden Got a chopper in a charger no we not the army Tan and black FN with me like my best friend Baby from the east I'm about to take her to the Westin Neck and wrist froze money old it need a bedpan Penthouse and the hotel you can tell I got that check in