Correction Paroles Bill Gates Remix par Rick Ross

Featuring(s) : Lil Wayne

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Paroles

Man I’m tired as fuck, I just woke up
I couldn’t fuck them hoes man
I’ll fuck one of them hoes, I’ll bust a nut quick as fuck
I’ll fuck a hoe for about a minute and a half, nigga maybe a minute nigga shit
And I counted that change, shit and I went to sleep on that bitch
Fuck you been doing nigga you been quiet as fuck over there

I’ve been sipping all this cough syrup and still coughing
Taking all this fucking Adderall, I’m sleep walking
Smoking all this fucking loud, I mean it’s real noisy
Take your bitch she can’t be found, I’m talking milk carton
I’ve been popping all these pain pills and still hurting
Popping all these Percs, call me Lil Wayne Perkins
Lil Tunechi, you can call me Pill Gates
All you niggas real fake, I like my kill laced
I live in Miami, I see real dolphins
Do donuts in the Lamby, I get real nauseous
Sipping out my GRAMMY, Best Hip Hop Artist
Get a bitch some Xannys, ain’t no Bill Cosby
I do business in her panties that’s my real office
And these Jordans I got on come from the real Jordan
Why your boyfriend gotta act like he your drill sergeant?
Enjoying the fruits of my labor have a peeled orange
Holding hands around the table with the meal on it
Eating all these niggas food although we still starving
Money, clothes, cars, and hoes I keep it real foreign
Pill Gates I make your hoe pop a pill for me

I want it all, Wingstops on every corner
I want a mall and I’m ’bout to build a Benihana
Bond out my dogs, quarter million on a new appeal
They call me Bill Gates and they know the money real
They wanna know my name, I tell them Bill Gates
Just blew a hundred million and I’m still straight
They started waving flags when the rockets came
Just put a hundred kilos on the stock exchange

Silk sweaters, dirty Berettas, and petty vendettas
Niggas is jealous I get it bring it when and wherever
Court dates and caskets I’m tryna stay composed
Out on bond on the run won’t ever sell my soul
Doing bad I shorted my connect a cool mil’
At the lab tryna keep my name out the news reels
Or at the Palms and I know the feds across the hall
I got a bitch who licking balls my back against the wall
All black photographs could speak a million words
One selfie with me and they think you’re dealing birds
Louis towels and the Gucci slides
Bill Gates still real when it’s out of style
Crack money, Nike sweats, wake up in night sweats
Homemade key lime pie we cutting slices
All my people eat at the table when we say our grace
One eye open for the Judas who wanna take my place
Twelve disciples I got two shooters nigga ten bodies
Caught a few niggas living thinking that I ain’t bout it
Dickie shirts, blood stains, come with the drug game
Cell phones tapped fast, money and cum stains
Public defenders say a number and you niggas tremble
Judge dropped the mallet mayor we’ll put a bullet in you
Louis towels and the Gucci slippers
Bill Gates still real and I keep it trilla

Cold cases they wanna put me in the hot seat
Finger Licking leftover lobster in the front seat
Niggas follow me in hopes of finding my stash box
In the Ghost like the Pope the all glass top
Look around I smile at you as I’m looking down
Bill Gates that red Chevy just be thumping loud
I put my niggas on they feet we can’t be fucking up
So fuck a hundred bricks flip a hundred restaurants

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