Yeah (Whitehouse sh*t, n***a, Whitehouse, Volume 1)
Yeah (f**k you mean, n***a?)
I got a deuce in my Canada Dry, b*t*h
More money, more problems. I ain’t trippin’, I can solve ’em
I ain’t trippin’ ’bout no b*t*h, she was suckin’, I was noddin’
First goal a hundred thousand, second goal a half a ticket
So much traffic at the highrise, the boy done got evicted
I don’t even feel comfortable if I ain’t got the blicky
Man, my bag a lil’ bigger, so the boy a lil’ picky
I got word through the grapevine these n***as tryna stick me
And I don’t blame ’em ’cause it’s dog sh*t on me and n***as finished
N***a tried to match a line with me, I’m offended
Half a line on a bad b*t*h pu**y, let me lick it
Ooh, that n***a ignorant, don’t got no manners in him
How you get the ball and turn it over, where your handles, n***a?
I can’t even lie, free the Don, I did some scamming with her
Switch to the orange, when it’s done, shoot to Atlanta with it
Switch to the town where it’s fifty, did some damage in it
Comfort got too hot, goin’ to the Hampton with it
I’ll take the bird, remix and stamp them b*t*hes
Money on your head, my young dog going camping with it
Freak b*t*h gave me a headshot, man, I’m breathing different
And if a n***a leave the game, would they love a n***a? (I don’t know)
Moved in with the plug, I was thuggin’ with him (My n***a)
Bag in your car the only way that I’m druggin’ b*t*hes (The only way)
N***as out here buying expensive jeans with no money in ’em (What?)
Loose Cannon give me sh*t for free, I spend money with him (That’s my guy)
I’m tired of speaking facts, n***a (n***as don’t know sh*t about this sh*t, n***a)
I’m tired (Two hundred dollar pops, n***a)
I’m tired of speaking facts, n***a (I spent two hundred on my n***a Jackie Chan exotic pop sh*t, n***a
F**k wrong with these n***as?)
Tired of speaking facts, n***a, yeah (Big boy blunts of exotic sh*t, man
It ain’t always used to be like this, though)
Ayy
It be ups, it be downs, when you down, the only way is up
Did a lot of things in my life, but never gave a f**k (Never)
Sold a lot of drugs in your raps, but never had a dub (Huh?)
I’ll leave my pocket in this b*t*h when I’m inside the club (On my mama)
I know I said this sh*t before, I wasn’t lying once (Never)
B*t*h, I got designer on me, and I do designer drugs (Yeah)
Big League bubblegum, eight hundred for the zip, n***a
Bag in, we goin’ crazy, bangin’ like Kemp, n***a
Gloves on in the kitchen, b*t*h, I’m Gary Payton
Playin’ with Bobby and Whitney, smokin’ Gary Payton
Just to gain all the f**kin’ riches, sell your soul to Satan
And stop all the fake love, b*t*h, I know you hating (Get the f**k on)
She gon’ put up with whatever, b*t*h, I know you waiting (Yeah, I know)
For all them M’s in my future (Hah)
If my n***a Sauce don’t trust you, I’ma shoot you
You ever rode a thousand eight grams past the troopers? (Ever?)
You wanna know the sacrifice I made, is you stupid? (Is you stupid?)
F**k love, shoot you in your heart, word to Cupid
Get some money, get up off your #ss, be useful (Yeah)
Or you gon’ follow lead just ’cause other n***as do it?
You beat your b*t*h #ss, she play other n***as’ music (Why?)
You play my sh*t too, that’s why a n***a so confused, man, ha (sh*t crazy)
I’m tired of speaking facts, n***a
I’m tired of speaking facts (Shout out to all my n***as made this sh*t possible, though, man)
Yeah
(We on our motherf**kin’ way, dog
The money train already done took off
N***a full speed with this sh*t)
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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