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Nicki Minaj
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Letra
What it do, n***a This your n***a T-Streets Bang-bang in the building This Young Money First up, my n***a Gudda Gudda Double G, blap, blap They call me Young Gudda, I'm all about the dough still And anybody in my way: roadkill Everything my hands touch turn to gold Money, knots, and jewels with no records sold, yeah I'm manhandlin' rappers with no effort So imagine what'll happen when I start applyin' pressure Guillotine flow, who ready to get severed, n***a? In or out the booth, you could get leveled, n***a Now we gonna take it to Harlem, Millzy L’eggo! Yo, we are Young Money (Yes) n***a, your camp chocha It's ‘bout to get real ugly—Omarosa YM vultures, it ain't a family doper Wе done changed the way thе game look—Sammy Sosa (Ha!) This is life, this ain't a job The Audemars and Chapard just symbolize I go hard Navy on Navy Camaro, I did it all for the Yankees (L'eggo) Did it all for New York and this love, no need to thank me Millz! Now we gonna take to the West Coast Tyga-Tyga Ugh, fast money, I don't slow dance Young Money, motherf**ker, 'til the world end Money overweight, b*t*h—Roseanne I don't listen to these kids—grown man Skinny n***a, dope though, ugh, Lohan Lindsey, the white Benz, same color Mike skin Make your soul spin when the ping loading Au revoir, goodbye, now applaud Yeah, now it’s child’s play, n***a My lil' G, Lil' Chuckee Young Money lil' G, battle juice in my blood Jumpin' at the boy, man, you better have your bungee cord Since Wayne took me off the leash, I ain't lose a fight yet Now, come drag your dog out the ring, how you love that? Young with an attitude, watch how you talk to me Keep playin' Freddy, boy, I'll leak on your Elm Street Trouble is what you want, dog, pain is what you don't get It's Young Money to the bone gristle, you dig? Now we got the hottest n***a on the internet Lil' Twist Hefner, what it do? Ugh! Young Money, good night And yeah, I'm gon' shine like a ultraviolet light Lil' Twist gonna sell out like it's opening tonight Going for the fist n***a to write You need a telescope sight to try to see me, I'm so far gone Even though I'm going off, kids, I'm so far on I got a house full of chicks like the Playboy home Wrappin' up my lifestyle and I smashed this song, Twizzy Yeah, next up, we got the best rapstress alive, Nicki Minaj I'm in that cotton-pickin' Bent, put massa on the guts White on white whips, Kunta Kinte on the clutch You at the bottom of the pole—totem Like Lamar Odom, I ball—scrotum Flyer than a cricket so they call me "Nicki Jiminy" And it's going down like Santa in the chim-i-ney You don't ball, break your baby-back ribs You need more assist than the handicapped kids Oh, sh*t And now, the beautiful Miss Shanell Young Money, we’re rockstars So f**k with your Magnum on And hold on, we go long You feel that, we get that We in that, we run that We bust back We hit them and we see them comin' back for more Back for more Next up, my n***a Mack Maine Stupid Mack-nupid, one hundred Microwave family in the building, you can't hold us Me, Tez, and Wayne, we the three new moguls Buffet around here, y'all boys scrape the plates And we don't eat up in our whips, but they got paper plates Soon as we leave the club, damn, where the models go One word I forgot to say on his album: "Hollygrove!" This track is the finale, nah, this the genesis Young Money murderers, we killin' sh*t, forever Toronto Drizzy Get ‘em Alright, I got this, you can never get this I built it up from nothing, you would think I'm playin' Tetris Thousand-dollar sweater on, but I don’t never sweat sh*t Swear the beats they give me got a motherf**kin’ death wish Yeah, tell me, who controls kings? I don't follow rules, stupid old things I'm flyin' through the city in a coupe with those wings And my team deserves some motherf**kin' Super Bowl rings Young Money Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy! I'm so in this b*t*h, CEO in this b*t*h Lil Weezy stand tall, tippy-toe in this b*t*h Blood Gang, motherf**ker, da-da-doe in this b*t*h Make your girl get Barry Mani-low in this b*t*h In the body of the world, money is the blood And every day, I be back and forward to the blood bank Ugh, makin' deposits 'til I f**king faint New Orleans, n***a: How 'bout them f**king Saints? It's tight on our end, call that "Bubba Franks" Matter-fact, it's too tight—add a couple links I'm the bar’s tender, you a woman drink Yeah, it's Young Money, but the money ain't Gudda tough, 'Nelly nice, Nick' nasty Streets bad, Tyga ill, Drake magic Millz Harlem, Chuck wild, Twist Dallas And Mack Maine rap, sing and manage, ugh! It's Young Mula, baby!
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