(feat. Paul Cain)
[Intro - Fabolous]
Uh, you think I give a fuck about what these niggas say man
They even talked about Jesus
[Fabolous]
I ain't mad at when it rain, cause I know the sun is somewhere shinin
Sorta like some clear diamonds
I hardly see my moms, but she know her son is somewhere grindin
Some where rhymin, or somewhere climbing
Out of a pottable 760, inclasable very sticky
Wit a handgun, to send these cowards to Heaven quickly
I ain't pussy, so I won't allow you to ever dick me
I know these greaseballs, wonder how could they ever stick me
But I move, like the President through town
Wit stones the size of earrings, in my Presidential crown
I put hollows from the Desert into clowns, cause the cemetary
Is where most of the dudes, that are hesitant are found
So I take the time, of whatever the bench throw
The 4BM put down, in a seventy-two inch hole
Mean while getting adapted, to the fame has be hectic
But I'm fucking like I'm tryna take down Chamberlain's record
And the girls more than like you, when you running run
Doing world tours like Michael, but girl's sure don't like you
You going on like thirty-six, flowin on some berry mix
The little money you get, you blowing on them dirty chicks
Tryna look young, so you throwing on the jersey quick
I'm on my second V-12, you going on ya thirty-six
You can look at this rider, and see I'm on the come-up
Cause I pass the hitch-hikers, like I don't see 'em with they thumb up
I just turn the system up and keep boppin
I never get, where I'm tryna go, if a nigga keep stoppin
And I tell the cops, this joint is for protection
Don't they see when I come through, how these people point in my direction-a |