Yeah, I appreciate
Your patience tonight
Its been a moment since
Ive done some public speaking
I find nowadays its,
You know, best to keep quiet
But, uh, sometimes you
Just gotta let it out
Young Angel and Young Lion,
You know what it is
Uh, look, Im the property of October
I aint drive here,
I got chauffeured
Bring me champagne flutes,
Ros and some shots over
I think better when Im not sober
I smoke goodie,
No glaucoma, Im a stockholder
Private flights back home,
No stop over
Still spittin that shit
That they shot Pac over
The shit my mother
Look shocked over
Yeah, but with a canvas
Im the Group of Seven
A migraine, take two Excedrin
Im the one twice over,
Im the new eleven
And if I die Ima do it reppin,
I never do a second
I swear niggas be eyein
Me all hard
And lyin to they girls
And drivin the same cars
Sittin there wishin their
Problems became ours
Cause we have nothin in
Common since I done became star
I done became bigger,
Swervin, writin in my peers lane
Same dudes that used
To holler my engineers name
One touch, I could make
The drapes and the sheers change
And show me the city that
I without fear claim
What I set seems to
Never extinguish
Coolest kid out, baby,
Word to Chuck Inglish
Count my own money,
See the paper cut fingers
My song is your girlfriends
Waking-up ringer
Heh, or alarm, or whatever
She be here at six
In the morn if I let her
But I never get attracted to fans
Cause the eager beaver
Could be the collapse of a dam
I always knew that I could figure
How to get these label heads
To offer him good figures
And me doin the shows gettin
Everyone nervous
Cause them hipsters gon
Have to get along with them hood niggas
Its all good, Im goin off like
Lights when the shows over
Make pasta, rent a movie,
Call hoes over
Rest in peace to Heath Ledger,
But Im no joker
Ill slow roast ya, got no holster
Wet glass on your table,
Nigga no coaster
Burn bread everyday,
Boy no toaster
G and Tez got a SIG,
But Im no smoker
They just handin chips to me,
Nigga no poker
Im with it, Young Money,
Cash Money soldier
My cup runneth over
The same niggas I ball with,
I fall with
On some southern drawl shit
Rookie of the year,
06 Chris Paul shit
D-R., CJ, and Po, I see yall
These cases dont work out,
I hope we can agree on
Makin enough to pay any
Judge Judy off
First thing Ima do is free
Weezy, go
And Id take probation
I dont want that T.I. and
Vick vacation
Private plane, pick location
Im goin to the bank
To make a big donation
Yeah, I dont stunt,
I stunt hard
And if the food aint
On the stove I hunt for it
But in the meantime
You can call me young Roy
Jones Jr. fightin the
Drugs and gun charge
Shit, dont leave me unguarded
And Im a cheesehead,
Word to Vince Lombardi
Word to Marky Mark,
Leave a snitch departed
All that blood like the Red Sea parted
My gun go crazy like its retarded
Red light on it like its recording
I aint recordin,
Im just C-4in
My currency foreign
We are in a league they arent
Better dig in your
Pocket and pay homage
Better cover your eyes,
Your face fallin
Watch the game from the side,
Im play callin
No, I didnt say that Im flawless
But I damn sure dont tarnish
My pistol got comments
For your garments
Im so high I can vomit on a comet
K-Y, no homo, Im on it
Weezy F Baby, new born bitch
You know what they say
Bout when your palm itch
Im gon get money,
Money Im gon get
Young Money in your tummy
And we gon shit
And get that toilet paper quick,
Like when Bones spit
Thats right, bitch,
Im back on my grown shit
That Audemars Piguet,
No ice, just chrome shit
And your boyfriend softer than a foam pit
I scream, Fuck the world with a long dick!
Motherfucker, Im me! Yeah, bitch, Im me!
You niggas sweet,
Like the pussy in which I eat
Fireman burn down your entire street
So fly Ima take off when I leap
Bye! And you can suck my wings
Stand on my money,
Headbutt Yao Ming
Put your hand in the oven
If you touch my things
Im shufflin the cards,
Bout to cut my queens
But I aint the dealer
House full of bitches
Like Tila Tequila
Yeah, Im the man in the mirror
My swagger just screamin,
Motherfucker, do you hear her?
Yeah, Drizzy Drake what the lick read?
We make magic, boy Roy and Siegfried
Woo, Young Mula, baby
Yeah