Medusa (feat. Jeezy)

Big Papito

Hey
No strings attached, okay
Okay, Chanel put on yo' frames and on your back, okay
Okay, don't go to looking strange when I go tat yo' face
I don't look like that when
You be asking me 'bout racks, okay (I don't look like that, don't look like that)

Hop on this dick, just like a scooter
Brand new whip, with old money, like my cougar
Designer got that shit sittin' fat, is that Medusa? (Uh-huh)
These niggas ain't real, I ain't bool with that
I just might shoot ya

I fuck with King and Dill for real, so free Bibby (free Bibby)
I was gettin' some lip service, just like Gigi (just like Gigi, yeah)
I remember a bitch curved me, then I had a three piece (had like three, yeah)
Talking bout the same time, my future bright no TV (this ain't TV, yeah)

Get off my dick bitch, damn hoe I gotta pee pee (I think I pee one time)
I had a shootout, who pick the youngins up?
That was Neenee (got a real bitch, one time)
Keep gettin' this paper, I don't want you talking 'bout free me
But a nigga tried, damn, guess you just got to free me

If I'm hoppin' outside of a Phantom
.40, inside of my hand
Ballerinas on me keep on dancing
Trappin' outside of Atlantic
Send my lil' bitch to go grab it
Gettin' to the money a habit
She be ocean wet, she the Atlantic
Got another hoe stuck on the campus

She be mixing her drink with the Addy
She be like, "Trouble come back with my panties"
I just want the paper, baby swear I'm not a fan of that
'Cause then you gone want shit free
And I gotta get my cheese
It's different if you was my bish
I'ma bless you, yes indeed

Hey
No strings attached, okay
Okay, Chanel put on yo' frames and on your back, okay
Okay, don't go to looking strange when I go tat yo' face
I don't look like that when
You be asking me 'bout racks, okay (I don't look like that, don't look like that)

Hop on this dick, just like a scooter
Brand new whip, with old money, like my cougar
Designer got that shit sittin' fat, is that Medusa? (Uh-huh)
These niggas ain't real, I ain't bool with that
I just might shoot ya

Plain Jane on my wrist a Hell Cat, okay
Gas Kenmore Stove, pass me that Old Bay (damn)
Rolls Truck on C's sit on that OJ (haha)
If you ain't get no paper you ain't got no say (yeah)

Call the sideline niggas 'cause we not gon' play (woah)
We stand up guys 'cause we not gon' lay
A bunch of S-Curl niggas how we not gon' spray? (Boom)
Yeah, we saw who did it but we not gon' say

Hoppin' up out of out of the Don (ayy)
Boxes of Louis Vuitton (ayy)
I put the ground on the map (ayy)
That why they call me the Don (ayy)
I put the light on the streets (ayy)
That why they call me the GOAT (GOAT)
If it's a hustler parade (ayy)
They gotta make me a float (let's go)

Tell 'em I said it I meant it and I quote it
Put the city on the map and you know it
Seven days out of the week wear black
Seven days out of the week stay strapped (stay strapped)
Top down ridin' down Old Nat
Brave game big clip fall back
First mill' I made that, no rap
Put the trap on the map no cap

Hey
No strings attached, okay
Okay, Chanel put on yo' frames and on your back, okay
Okay, don't go to looking strange when I go tat yo' face
I don't look like that when
You be asking me 'bout racks, okay (I don't look like that, don't look like that)

Hop on this dick, just like a scooter
Brand new whip, with old money, like my cougar
Designer got that shit sittin' fat, is that Medusa? (Uh-huh)
These niggas ain't real, I ain't bool with that
I just might shoot ya (let's go)



Credits
Writer(s): Jay Jenkins, Mariel Orr, Papa Fall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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