"Obama" lyrics
Fuck you lookin at aye! You think I'm fucking crazy aye! The fuck! You know what I'm sayin'. Sosa's on the motherfucking beat now! Fucking with the fucking I8 driving through the fucking streets. Just tryna carry my fucking shit down the motherfucking ship! You know what I'm sayin'. Don't be fucking callin' your homeboys. I'm just one fucking gangster against all you motherfuckers! Come on! The fuck is up? You know what I'm sayin'. T up motherfucker! Step ya fucking game up!
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
On some street shit, come and get you in a Hemi
On some rich shit, pick you up in a Bentley
I'm riding stock paint, and my shit still look like candy
All these tools on me, man I look like Handy Manny
Nigga I'm an astronaut, Nigga you's a Sandy
You ain't never jump out the water, you use to swimming
That mean you never jumped out the porch, no types of sports
I got my own shit, I don't need no type of source
Me and guap, we be kicking it in all types of sorts
Hit the Louis store, and I buy all types of shorts
Don't let me in the NBA, we knock it off the shore
Bump me my motherfucking pistol, knock you off the court
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
On some country shit, I pick you up in a dump
Police in my trunk, what the fuck they trying find?
When they pull me over, they say I smell like a pound
I say I'm always going up, I'm never Gloing down
Twitter this, Twitter that, I'm going Slim Dunk
Pull up on ya block, what's in my gun make ya run
This balling shit be fun, but shooting pistols funner
I get the money later, I got shooting pistols hunger
And when I'm done sparking, roll up and I forgot
Sosa you can't have this snub in the club, I ain't retarded
I do everything without giving fucks, I nonchalant it
Sosa, what the goals you want in life? I want the money
Sosa, what type of weed you smoke? I want the onions
Sosa, what type of chips you like? I want the Funyuns
I'm riding low in cold water or I'm riding around
Came with my cannon, can't win, don't try it
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
On some street shit, come and get you in a Hemi
On some rich shit, pick you up in a Bentley
I'm riding stock paint, and my shit still look like candy
All these tools on me, man I look like Handy Manny
Nigga I'm an astronaut, Nigga you's a Sandy
You ain't never jump out the water, you use to swimming
That mean you never jumped out the porch, no types of sports
I got my own shit, I don't need no type of source
Me and guap, we be kicking it in all types of sorts
Hit the Louis store, and I buy all types of shorts
Don't let me in the NBA, we knock it off the shore
Bump me my motherfucking pistol, knock you off the court
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
On some country shit, I pick you up in a dump
Police in my trunk, what the fuck they trying find?
When they pull me over, they say I smell like a pound
I say I'm always going up, I'm never Gloing down
Twitter this, Twitter that, I'm going Slim Dunk
Pull up on ya block, what's in my gun make ya run
This balling shit be fun, but shooting pistols funner
I get the money later, I got shooting pistols hunger
And when I'm done sparking, roll up and I forgot
Sosa you can't have this snub in the club, I ain't retarded
I do everything without giving fucks, I nonchalant it
Sosa, what the goals you want in life? I want the money
Sosa, what type of weed you smoke? I want the onions
Sosa, what type of chips you like? I want the Funyuns
I'm riding low in cold water or I'm riding around
Came with my cannon, can't win, don't try it
Sosa since you got this money, you disappear
That how you feel
In the motherfucking hood, its ain't how you steal, it's how you kill
Now I'm rich bitch, it ain't how you feel, it's how you live
And I'm on some big shit, it ain't what you was, it's how you is
When I come have your 3D glasses in, and have your ears
Before my son grow older, I'ma tell ya hide ya kids
I smoke doja, you smoke Folgers, flame it up and now you're dizzy
Hit Obama, told him I'ma pick him up and he said "Really?"
Writer(s): Keith Cozart
