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[Intro: Tony Yayo] I bust your head to the white meat, white meat Spray the k you see them white sheets, white sheets Fuck you if you don't like me, like me We don't take this beef lightly, lightly [Chorus: Tony Yayo] Throw it up, represent Guzzle bottle after bottle till your bent I'm in the lam, borghini And I don't give a fuck if you don't like me I bust your head to the white meat, white meat Spray the k you see them white sheets, white sheets Fuck you if you don't like me, like me We don't take this beef lightly, lightly [Tony Yayo:] 4-10 revolver, shotgun fire I'm a bring new york back like scott amayer 458 ferrari styling I'm black in it so police racial profiling El chapo, import export I bought my first aiflestein I felt like a boss Sak passe, my neck all rocky Cooling aging on my wrists so freaks leave the party Rap critics fuck up my high everyday Letras de cancionesI'm making movies in the morning matinee I gave the haze up, now I'm rolling dour blunts With a model with some seline d cups Blame it on me, not your baby momma Cum in her extensions in the coupe extension on the llama Everyday is drama, around the clock I put that twerk and park the car right around the block [Chorus] [Yo Gotti:] I'm a real nigaa, and I always been Feeling but a brick spending by the 10's Chopper on my hummer, leave a pussy leaked Fishscale and whyola got the hood tweaked Put the llama beep, all I ever need Addict full of snow truck load full of weed In emergency goons working overtime So in otherwords ya fuck with me then you know your dying Whole faminly crying, whole city sad Never will forget him, but they will miss his ass Breaking nooses in, shoot em on the run I never make a statement, I never leave my gun Not living where I'm from, not living where I hum Them young niggaz and old niggaz Got pistols called super doke Air filting super gun, murder rate done got super dope And I go hard in every city to represent where I'm from [Chorus] [Waka Flocka Flame:] Throw your sets up, what hood ya from Pour dark 60 deep in the tour bus You a blodd, you a crip, you a fool You a lord, you sell weed, you sell coke I'm tryna find an hoe in here Have her on some weed and a cold beer Beat a nigga ass who wanna volunteer Fore heads seems a had a good year Black and yellow rari, mid man took off the tape All this ice on me my nigga this is what it cost to hate Throy ya hood up Throw ya hood up Where ya from, put ya bottles and your cups up Bread squad monopoly, ain't no stoppin me Bitches jockin me ballin with no referee It's a guarentee you fuck with me your a dead man Bread squad monoply we don't gangland [Chorus] From Letras Mania