I Don't Like The Look Of It (Bonus Track)

(álbum: I Am Not A Human Being - 2010)

I don't like the look of it

Okay, I'm sipping on the syrup, got a nigga moving slow
I'm all about the money, what the fuck you think I do it for?
Bitch don't act like you don't know, I'm killing all these rap niggas
Custom made caskets for yo' motherfuckin funeral
Keep the women with me, shit I gotta keep like two or more
Party everyday, like we won the fucking Super Bowl
Chilling with my nigga Mack, he keep bitches handy
White girl on the table, let 'em sniff the nose candy
When I'm walking by, the women saying, "Who is that nigga?"
I replied, "Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that nigga!"
I was raised in the home of the cap splitters
Whip on 24s, watch it crawl like a caterpillar
I come with a toy boy like a Happy Meal
And you's a motherfucking duck, Daffy-dil
I'm from the school of hard knocks, where we scrap and kill
Pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal
I'm hot, nigga, burning everything around me
I was lost for a minute, took a while but I found me (Gudda)
The streets say I'm king but the game'll never crown me (Gudda)
Realest nigga doing it just ask them niggas 'round me (Gudda)
So you can't size me up or try to clown a—
Shark in the water, jump in and I'ma drown you
New Orleans nigga, gun out, I'ma down you
Put niggas to sleep like a muh'fucking downer (Gudda)
I'm a Great White, you's a flounder
Fish and a bitch, I tuna everything around you
U Haul Gudda, moving everything around you (Yeah)
It's Young Money, bitch! At the top is where they found us, nigga

Ugh, goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em
Silence on the gun, watch a nigga mute 'em
The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden
School these niggas, they all my students
All jokes aside, I ain't playing with ya
The weed broke down, like a transmission
The chopper spin him 'round, like a ballerina
Bitch I'm still spitting like I ate a jalape-na
I'm from uptown, my bitch from Argentina
My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena
Stunt so hard, it's all y'all fault
And when it come to beef, give me A1 Sauce
I ain't worrying 'bout shit, everything paid out
You could catch me court-side in Dwayne Wade house
With a high yellow thick bitch with her legs out
Cash Money president, but we in a red house
Who the fuck want it? Make my fucking day
I blow your candles out, now nigga cut the cake
I gotta eat, bitch! Like a runaway
Y'all niggas ain't eating, stomach ache
Okay, all these bitches, and niggas still hating
I used to be balling, but now I'm Bill Gatein
Fucking with my iPhone, bumping Illmatic
I'm on the road to riches, there's just a little traffic
Hair still platted, thuggin is a habit
Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz
Bunch of bad bitches and I fuck 'em like rabbits
Dope dick Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh