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[Verse 1:] Today Jimmy Hendrix is motivation I guess it's time for me to put them 808′s in Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating And Sak Pase to all my fucking Haitians Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in I'm in the same car that Ricky Rozay in Tell Satan that it's a celebration So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up Now, which one of us is really Mr. West? Probably the one of us that really needs to wear his vest And I'm just shooting my niggas some subliminals 'Cause he got all the bitches and I be with the criminals Beat sound like some crazy shit that Tim would do Now when you see me, I'm the brown Eminem to you Show you what I'm finna do, but you don't know it's me though Magic when I shoot, get to boxing like Hedo Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas Hit your block in the Caprice and just circle you niggas Know what I mean? Think you pheens how I'm serving you niggas Know what I mean? Think I'm beans how I'm serving you niggas And it ain't rice and beans when I'm serving you niggas Punk you in front of your crew, Steve Urkel you niggas Putting bull shit out, I hope it works for you niggas And when it don't, come and see me, I got that work for you niggas Letras de canciones[Hook 1: x2] Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) Now, which one of us is really Mr. West? [Verse 2:] He had a Rolls, I had a Rolls too Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do Burn rubber, swear to God they gon' love ya Like rookie cops, can't wait to be undercovers I'm 6'5″, nigga basketball size You act like I can't fuck one of them basketball wives I be a basketball Game, with my basketball dame Feeling like, Hov, call back, I'm watching basketball dang Damn, but I ain't talking 'bout dames I ain't talking bout Hov, I'm just talking bout Game Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game Jesus Shuttlesworth, yeah the boy got range-s In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot They way they gossiping hip-hop should be a barber shop Getting cash money baby, why you tryna baller block? Mad chick, her's, man somebody gotta call the shots [Hook 1] [Bridge:] I guess it's me y'all, the highest on the see saw Get so much money, why the fuck would I wann be y'all? Shit, I be everywhere, but I don't ever see y'all So for the next 12 songs, I'm a fucking R.I.P. y'all [Verse 3:] Sometimes I hear anger talking, asking how I'm feeling I'm just happy to be alive, Lord willing Four albums later, two more children Feeling like 'Ye, "Mr. West is in the building" What happened to the competition? Nigga I killed 'em Can't drink Crystal, the nigga Hov chilled 'em I'm on this patent rhyme like I know them niggas Them haters say I fell off? I'm 'bout to show them niggas Drake and J. Cole them niggas I sold nine mill, made nine mill, and kept it hood nigga Just like Drake told a nigga I made it rain in hundreds like I was Big Meech I made it rain in hundreds when I was with Meech Went from a Cutlass with the old front end To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping Now I'm a take you back to where I got jumped in West side Compton, just east of the one ten [Hook 2:] I just roll weed on your last album And after that I'm 'bout to fuck your girl for 'bout an hour Look around the club, uh, all I see is cowards Mad 'cause I got respect, the money, and the power I just roll weed on your last album And after that I'm 'bout to fuck your girl for 'bout an hour Look around the club and all I see is cowards Mad 'cause I got respect, the money, and all the power [Verse 4] "No one man should have... " 'Ye said that "Can't knock the... " Naw, Jay said that "You can thank me... " Naw, Drake said that "Mind playing tricks on me" Scarface said that But I'm about to roll this paper plane Hit the barber shop, get cut before this Laker game Niggas hate The Game, sometimes I hate the fame They hate my bitch, they hate my chain I'm so hood, I might fly to New York and just take the train On some John Travolta shit, just take the train So if you in New York at two o'clock, don't take the train I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came Four albums, twelve cars, but the flow stay the same Every nigga I dap turn blood, it's like I'm made of flames Dipping this red flag, like the one I gave to Wayne [Hook 2] [Verse 5:] Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run Soon as the Game over, they back stripping for ones Had your bitch all in my crib, stripping for fun Getting head, thinking 'bout cars when I strip 'em for fun Walk in my closet, throw on my J's, pick up my gun Spin the block with some some shit that spit quicker than Pun I respect two East Coast niggas, Biggie was one If he was living, he'd say that no one is sicker then son, uh Young gun, bar none, the tightest where I'm from Roll some much kush, got the leaves sticking to my thumb As I break it down, bring that six tray around Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now Treat beef like haircuts, gotta fade it down Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby How can niggas hate on me? 'cause I get Cash Money Six bricks in the Aston Martin, that's fast money [Hook 2] From Letras Mania