mr west money the power
Today Jimmy Hendrix is my motivation
I guess it's time for me to put them 808's in
Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating
And sake pase to all my fucking Haitians
Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in
I'm in the same car that Ricky Rozay in
Tell Satan that it's a celebration
So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
Probably the one of us that really needs to wear his vest
And I'm just shooting my niggas some subliminals
Cause he got all the bitches and I be with the criminals
Beat sound like some crazy shit that Tim would do
Now when you see me, I'm the brown Eminem to you
Show you what I'm finna do, but you don't know it's me though
Magic when I shoot, get to bustin' like Hedo
Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas
Hit your block in the Caprice and just circle you niggas
Know what I mean? Think you fiends, how I'm serving you niggas
Know what I mean? Think I'm beans how I'm serving you niggas
And it ain't rice and beans when I'm serving you niggas
Punk you in front of your crew, Steve Urkel you niggas
Putting bull shit out, I hope it works for you niggas
And when it don't, come and see me, I got that work for you niggas
Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
He had a rose, I had a rose too
Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do
Burn rubber, swear to God they gon' love ya
Like rookie cops, can't wait to be undercovers
I'm six-five, nigga basketball size
You act like I can't fuck one of them basketball wives
I be a basketball Game, with my basketball dame
Feeling like, Hov, call back, I'm watching basketball dang
D-mn, but I ain't talking 'bout dames
I ain't talking bout Hov, I'm just talking bout Game
Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game
Or Jesus Shuttlesworth the boy got range-s
In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot
They way they gossiping hip-hop should be a barber shop
Getting cash money baby, why you trying to baller block?
Mad chick, her's, man somebody gotta call the shots
I guess it's me y'all, the highest on the see saw
Get so much money, why the fuck would I wann be y'all?
Shit, I be everywhere, but I don't ever see y'all
So for the next 12 songs, I'mma fucking R.I.P. y'all
Sometimes I hear anger talking, asking how I'm feeling
I'm just happy to be alive, Lord willing
Four albums later, two more children
Feeling like 'Ye, "Mr. West is in the building"
What happened to the competition? Nigga I killed 'em
Can't drink Cristal, the nigga ho chilled 'em
I'm on this patent rhyme like I know them niggas
Them haters say I fell off? I'm 'bout to show them niggas
Drake and J. Cole them niggas
I sold nine mill, made nine mill, and kept it hood nigga
Just like Dre told a nigga
I made it rain in hundreds like I was Big Meech
I made it rain in hundreds when I was with Meech
Went from a Cutlass with the old front end
To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping
Now I'mma take you back to where I got jumped in
West side Compton, just east of the one ten
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club, uh, all I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money, and the power
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club and all I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money, and all the power
"No one man should have.." 'Ye said that
"Can't knock the..." Naw, Jay said that
"You can thank me..." Naw, Drake said that
"Mind playing tricks on me" Scarface said that
But I'm about to roll this paper plane
Hit the barber shop, get cut before this Laker game
Niggas hate The Game, sometimes I hate the fame
They hate my bitch, they hate my chain
I'm so hood, I might fly to New York and just take the train
On some John Travolta shit, just take the train
If you in New York at two o'clock, don't take the train
I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine
I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame
Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came
Four albums, twelve cars, but the flow stay the same
Every nigga I dap turn blood, it's like I'm made of flame
Dipping this red flag, like the one I gave to Wayne
Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run
Soon as the Game over, they back stripping for ones
Had your bitch all in my crib, stripping for fun
Getting head, thinking 'bout cars when I strip 'em for fun
Walk in my closet, throw on my J's, pick up my gun
Spin the block with some some shit that spit quicker than puns
I respect two East Coast niggas, Biggie was one
If he was living, he'd say that no one is sicker then son, uh
Young gun, bar none, the tightest where I'm from
Roll some much kush, got the leaves sticking to my thumb
As I break it down , bring that six tray around
Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now
Treat beef like haircuts, I gotta fade it down
Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby now
Why do niggas hate? Only 'cuz I get Cash Money
Six bricks in the Aston Martin, that's fast money