6 Foot 7 Foot

Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch

Excuse my charisma, vodka with a spritzer
Swagger down pat, call my shit Patricia
Young Money militia and I am the commissioner
You don't want start Weezy 'cause the F is for finisher

So misunderstood but what's a world without enigma?
Two bitches at the same time, synchronized swimmers
Got the girl twisted 'cause she open when you twist her
Never met the bitch but I fuck her like I missed her

Life is the bitch and death is her sister
Sleep is the cousin, what a fuckin' family picture
You know father time, we all know Mother Nature
It's all in the family but I am of no relation
No matter who's buying, I'm a celebration
Black and white diamonds, fuck segregation

Fuck that shit, my money up, you niggas just Honey Nut
Young Money running shit and you niggas just runner ups
I don't feel I done enough so I'ma keep on doing this shit
Lil Tunechi or Young Tunafish

Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch

I'm going back in
Okay, I lost my mind, it's somewhere out there stranded
I think you stand under me if you don't understand me
Had my heart broken by this woman named Tammy
But hoes gon' be hoes so I couldn't blame Tammy

Just talked to Moms, told her she the sweetest
I beat the beat up, call it self-defense
Swear man, I be seeing through these niggas like sequins
Niggas think they He-Man, pow, pow, the end

Talking to myself because I am my own consultant
Married to the money, fuck the world, that's adultery
You full of shit, you close your mouth and let yo ass talk
Young Money eating, all you haters do is add salt

Stop playing, bitch, I got this game on deadbolt
Mind so sharp, I fuck around and cut my head off
Real nigga all day and tomorrow
But these muthafuckas talking crazy like they jaw broke

Glass half empty, half full, I'll spill ya
Try me and run into a wall, outfielder
You know I'ma ball 'til they turn off the field lights
The fruits of my labor I enjoy 'em while they still ripe

Bitch, stop playing, I do it like a king do
If these niggas animals then I'ma have a mink soon
Tell 'em bitches I say put my name on the wall
I speak the truth but I guess that's a foreign language to y'all

And I call it like I see it and my glasses on
But most of y'all don't get the picture 'less the flash is on
Satisfied with nothing
You don't know the half of it

Young Money, Cash Money
Paper chasing, tell that paper, "Look, I'm right behind ya"
Bitch, real G's move in silence like lasagna
People say I'm borderline crazy, sorta kinda
Woman of my dreams, I don't sleep so I can't find her

You niggas are gelatin, peanuts to an elephant
I got through that sentence like a subject and a predicate
Yeah, with a swag you would kill for
Money too strong, pockets on bodybuilder
Jumped in a wishing well, now wish me well
Tell 'em kiss my ass, call it kiss and tell

Word to my mama, I'm out of my lima bean
Don't wanna see what that drama mean, get some Dramamine
Llama scream, hotter than summer sun on a Ghana queen
Now all I want is hits, bitch, Wayne signed a fiend

I played the side for you niggas that's tryin' to front and see
Son of Gunz, Son of Sam, you niggas the son of me
Pause for this dumber speech, I glow like Buddha
Disturb me and you'll be all over the flow like Luda
Bitch, I flow like scuba, bitch, I'm bald like Cuba

And I keep a killer ho, she gon' blow right through ya
I be macking 'bout my stacking, now I pack like a mover
Shout to ratchet for backing out on behalf of my shooter
Niggas think they high as I, I come laugh at your ruler
Cash Money cold, bitch, but our actions is cooler

Wayne, these niggas out they mind
I done told these fuck niggas, so many times
That I keep these bucks steady on my mind
Tuck these, I fuck these on your mind, pause

To feed them on my grind, did I get a little love?
Keep throwing my sign in the middle
Hit 'em up, piece on my side,
'Cause ain't no peace on my side, bitch

I'm a man, I visit urinals abroad
Tune told me to, I'm shooting when the funeral outside
I'm uptown, thoroughbred, a BX nigga, ya heard?
Gunna

End



Credits
Writer(s): Dwayne Carter, Shondrae Crawford, Peter Pankey, Irving Burgie, Greg Attaway
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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