متن و پخش آهنگ I Don't Like The Look Of It از Nicki Minaj

متن کامل ترانه I Don't Like The Look Of It با صدای Nicki Minaj

I don't like the look of it I don't like the look of it Okay, I'm sippin on the syrup, got a nigga 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 niggas Custom made caskets 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' wit my nigga Mack, 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 nigga?" I replied, "Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that nigga!" I was raised in the home of the cap splitters Whip on 24's, watch it crawl like a caterpillar 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 or you can get the package deal I'm hot nigga, 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 nigga doin' it just ask the niggas '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 nigga, gun out, I'ma down ya Put niggas to sleep like a muthafuckin' downer I'm a Great White, you'se a flounder Fish and a bitch, I tuna everything around ya U-Haul Gudda, movin everything around ya It's Young Money, bitch! At the top is where they found us, nigga Uh, goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em Silence on the gun, watch a nigga mute 'em The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden School these niggas, they all my students All jokes aside, I ain't playin' with ya The weed broke down, like a transmission The chopper spin him 'round, 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 'bout shit, everything paid out You could catch me courtside in Dwyane Wade house With a high yellow thick bitch wit' 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 nigga cut the cake I gotta eat, bitch! Like a runaway Y'all niggas ain't eatin', stomach ache Okay, all these bitches, and niggas still hatin' I used to be ballin', but now I'm Bill Gatein' Fuckin' with my iPhone, bumpin' Illmatic I'm on the road to riches, there's just a lil' 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