400 - I'm Wit It

Hatin niggas in my face I don't see em
Fly your bitch to me with my per diem
Im eclectic take her to museums
She like Basquiat when she see em
Tell them boy's I'll come and see them
And tell em I don't need a reason
Tell em I have no clique either
Fuck having a clique I don't need em
So much money right now I might by my BM a B-M-W
Fuck your trouble cause Im trouble too
I ask for room 304 at the W
Fuckin a bitch that you thought was in love with you
She ain't in love with you
She was just comfortable
Bitches sometimes fuck with sucks too
Tell em Im a boss foreal
Kick your ass of my team if you kneel
Tell these boy's that I have no chill
But I chill in a Villa formal
With a hot mama somewhere off in Nicaragua
She like potatoes with a whole lot of lobster
I like garlic Alfredo all up in my pasta
You niggas don't really know mobstas
Im a wise guy and I pay shots
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits
I pour out some Cristal with Krystal
.380 that's my choice of pistol
Burn your ass faster than Crisco
I might start singing to bitches and dye my hair blonde tell em call me Sisqo
Thong, thong, thong, thong nothin but the thong or I let that bitch go
I make niggas bounce like a 6-4
They good not better than this tho
Im so intercontinental
Somebody tell these nationwide niggas about some Lempiras
Somebody tell these nationwide niggas I do Vegas on the regular I can't take em serious
Whatever rebuttal they have I don't wanna hear it
Half of the places I've been these niggas would die before they get near it
I went to Cuba just to kick it
And that was way after Delta cause I can still afford the ticket
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits Bitch
Im wit the shits
Im wit the shits Bitch

Written by:
Eugene Jackson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, THE MSMJ MUSIC COMPANY

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