"Chicago's Finest" lyrics

I'm coming to you, live and direct
Billy brought a new flow, just to make you sweat
Didn't go to school, but I still get bread
You didn't get that plate, but I still get fed
If you don't like my shit, you got a hole in yo' head
When I leave the house, I always make the bed
Why's that? (Why's that? Why's that?)
'Cause I might bring yo bitch back home instead (ah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, what's up, mo'fucker? Huh

I'm on a roll, I think I was chosen to strike fear
In mo'fuckers who like drinking light beer
Get your weight up, I'm pushing 260
Bench press a mo'fucker who try to diss me, uh
All these rappers went Disney
I'm on the hunt for a thick Latina who likes Frisbee
Last year, they said, "Billy, who is he?"
I like my rum with a side of whiskey, uh

Dance in the mo'fucking moonlight
Big bag on me like I'm coming down a chimney, uh
Five years in the game, feel like a vet
Getting better every second, they can't fuck with me, uh
Blowing up like Vegeta, balls like Jeeta'
Park the whip, I never pay the meter
Billy, number one draft pick
Flow still sick, copyright my dick, uh (oh, shit)

Now, this a classic, homie
I got your shawty on me
Yea its Billy baby, Mr. One and Only, uh
They can't find me, I'm so lost in them titties
Your mama told me I'm pretty, I took her back to the city
I'm tryna hit, I got bands like a rock star
Driving a cop car, uh, five stars
Whipping that shit 'til the wheels fall off, uh, uh

She tryna call me, girl, I'm sorry
I'm recording with the homies at the studio
Like a second home, makin' heat
If I don't make a hit, then it's back to the streets
Back to the blueprint, back to the concrete

And it's Billy, mo'fucker
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, talk that shit
Chicago's Finest (Bop! Bop!)