Bangladesh

Young Money!
♪
You dig?
Mack, I'm going in
A millionaire, I'm a Young Money millionaire
Tougher than Nigerian hair
My criteria compared to your career just isn't fair
I'm a venereal disease, like a menstrual, bleed
Through the pencil, I leak on the sheet of the tablet in my mind
'Cause I don't write ***, 'cause I ain't got time
'Cause my seconds, minutes, hours go to the almighty dollar
And the almighty power of that ch-cha-cha-chopper
Sister, brother, son, daughter, father, mother-*** a copper
Got the Maserati dancing on the bridge, pussy poppin'
Tell the coppers, ha-ha-ha-ha
You can't catch him, you can't stop him
I go by them goon rules
If you can't beat 'em then you pop 'em
You can't man 'em then you mop 'em
You can't stand 'em then you drop 'em
You pop 'em 'cause we pop 'em like Orville Redenbacher
Mother***er, I'm ill
Yeah
A million here a million there
Sicilian bitch with long hair, with coke in her derriere
Like smokin' the thinnest air
I open the Lamborghini, hopin' them crackers see me
Like, look at that *** Weezy
He's a beast, he's a dog, he's a motha***in' problem
Okay, you're a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin?
Nothin', nothin', you ain't scaring nothin'
On some faggot bull***, call 'em Dennis Rodman
Call me what you want, bitch
Call me on my Sidekick!
Never answer when it's private
Damn, I hate a shy bitch
Don't you hate a shy bitch?
Yeah, I ate a shy bitch
She ain't shy no more
She changed her name to My Bitch
Yeah, nigga, that's my bitch
So when she ask for the money when you through
Don't be surprised, bitch!
It ain't trickin' if you got it
But you like a bitch with no ass, you ain't got ***
Mother***er, I'm ill not sick
And I'm okay, but my watch sick
Yeah, my drop sick
Yeah, my Glock sick
And my knot thick, I'm it
Mother***er, I'm ill
See, they say I'm rappin' like B.I.G., Jay, and 2Pac
André 3000, where is Erykah Badu at? Who that?
Who that said they gon' beat Lil Wayne?
My name ain't Bic, but I keep that flame, man
Who that one that do that, boy?
You knew that, true that, swallow
And I be the ***, now you got loose bowels
I don't owe you like two vowels
But I would like for you to pay me by the hour
And I'd rather be pushin' flowers
Than to be in the pen sharin' showers
Tony told us this world was ours
And the Bible told us every girl was sour
Don't play in her garden and don't smell her flower
Call me Mr. Carter or Mr. Lawn Mower
Boy, I got so many bitches, like I'm Mike Lowrey
Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me
Mother***er, I say, life ain't *** without me
Chrome lips pokin' out the coupe, look like it's poutin'
I do what I do and you do what you can do about it
Bitch, I can turn a crack rock into a mountain, dare me
Don't you compare me
'Cause there ain't nobody near me
They don't see me but they hear me
They don't feel me, but they fear me
I'm illy, C3, 3 Peat