Fuck ’EmT-Pain

[Hook: T-Pain] {Rich Homie Quan}
And I put that on MJ, {MJ} I'm bad {I'm bad}
They hatin', {They hatin'} they mad {They mad}
On my momma, {On my momma} on me {On me}
They hatin', {They hatin'} and got beef {Hey, hey, hey}
All I say is
Fuck 'em (x8) {(Fuck these niggas, and fuck these bitches)}[x4]
Fuck 'em (x8) {(They don't really want it)}[x4]

[Verse 1: T-Pain]
I put that on everything, on my clique
Let me get a couple drinks in my system I go put it down on your bitch
Oh man, I've been putting on for my niggas, and I let 'em put her on
Brand new whip with some petal and some metal they gon' flip that [?] on
How y'all niggas gon' act when I pull up in that Maybach with a fucking chauffeur in the front and a view with bitches in the back
And they all want me to, (Touch 'em, touch 'em)
And later on I'm gon', (Fuck 'em, fuck 'em)
I know y'all niggas don't like me, tough titty for you broke hoes
Send them niggas wanna fight me, they gon' leave the club with a broke nose
Y'all keep me going, y'all keep me great
So I'ma do me and haters gon' hate

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Rich Homie Quan]
I pull up in the drop head I don't think that they really want it
Drunk an eighth then I drop dead I don't think that they know I'm on it
The red light I got stopped there I could tell 12 by only
Showed 'em my paper like "Go on nigga", you got the wrong nigga but
On my momma, and on my dad
I like commas, I don't like dashes
Put that on MJ, I know I'm bad
I'm talking bout' Jordan, ain't talking bout' Jackson

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Waka Flocka Flame]
All this money but you ain't go do nothing
All that talking but you ain't go do nothing
Pulling out guns but you ain't shoot nothing, nothing
Shit, partner protecting me money ain't nothing
On slam dunk and I ain't playing with you niggas, can't sprang at you niggas, can't stop till' the whole world feel us
Ya feel us, BSM we the real good billas'
He talk a lot of much, that boy just jealous
He don't want no war, ain't no niggas knocking at your front door
In the club, hoodies, goons on the dance floor
Think I'm playing, I call a hundred more (more, more,)
Racks, fuck ones long as money stack
Been on tour six months, I'm back
Lost weight but my pocket still fat

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Young Cash]
Niggas just be talkin' cause they got lips
When I put up them choppers niggas get flipped
Hit 'em in the head, stomach, then I reload my clip
I dunno what y'all done heard
But Young Cash ain't one to play with
Just ask these niggas in the streets
Who had failure to make payments?
Matter fact, they swimmin' with the fishes
I'ma shark just swimmin' with the bitches
And I got your girl with my hand on her ass if I'm coming downtown watching Netflix
Young Cash, I'm a real G (Niggas see it in my eyes)
You tried nigga but everybody gon' see (That you ain't bout' that life)
I'm the best in the game, so everybody know that (I'm a smooth criminal)
And we can come to a trap, they got about nine [?] (It's a [?] minimum)
On my momma, on my children
On this hood, on this verse
You try me I'll put your face up on a shirt