Bodega Bamz, Tego Calderón and Joell Ortiz - My Name Is, Pt. 2
Oye, mamabicho (dile)
Deja de mentira
These motherfuckers want to say I'm wack?
Bet next year I'm a have a Grammy nominated track
All black with a tan flag, ever since Spofford
Papi let his pants sag, kiss ass
Ya'll rappers trash, kings of the underground
Well, my mainstream flow to the cash
My future always look bright in the past
I'm a hit at least one, sixteen in the mag
RLX when I skeet
The youth been dead, so I rose up
With a hundred million roses like Fergie
How much the key weighing, like Bugaloo
In Above The Rim been fucking with a birdy
Middle fingers up, washing both hands early
In the A.M, get the worm out the Rotten Manazana
Meaning mama's and mamajuanas
That will suck my dick like a Slurpee
All money clean cause the streets did me dirty
Now I'm trying to be a millionaire before thirty
New, improved Carlo Brigante, hop off the stretcher
Go get your favorite artist and tell him Bodega's better
I'm a Microphone Fiend word to the 1-8 letter
Still serve addicts, cooking in the cellar
Pitch black lungs, fucked up liver
I'ma die young, I'm a born killer
Fucked up lungs, pitch black liver
I'ma die young, I'm a born killer
My name is Papi
A todo lo' que tú se lo' mama'
'Tá chotiando, cumpliendo vida (que feo)
Compadre, si tuviera tiro
Vendiera libreta o vendiera kilo (my name is Papi)
Lo meno que usted haria seria dicerlo (que claro)
Muy poco bandito llega vivo a retiro (muy poco)
El futuro es presidio (my name is Papi)
And ya'll know me
The big homie
J-O-E double puff, puff, pass
Took your bus pass on the way to high school
Cause you was phony
Of course, no longer in school am I
But the same rules apply
You might fool these guys
With all them groovy lies
'Bout how you move these pies
This ain't no movie, pai
Niggas next to me'll take all of your jewelry, why?
Cause niggas 'bout it, 'bout it
What you gonna do besides pout about it?
Want to put on a show?
There'll be a body with a crowd around it
Cut crack, grind dope, use scissors for bush
You could beam, nod off or get a hit of this kush
I rap but I ain't these rapper niggas
Still wears slippers on the bench
And won't flinch when they clapping niggas
Might hear me on the radio
See me in these videos
Yeah, I'm fucking one of these silly hoes
So? That's what niggas do
When they hustling and what they spit is true
Nigga, my chips is woo
Whip is blue, interior Winnie The Pooh
Your lady neck will twist like The Exorcist
When I spin it through
I'm just a Brooklyn boy
Them E-Readers couldn't book your boy
These street sweepers'll unhook your boy
From life support, try me
No need to look around, I did this to you
My name is Papi
(My name is Papi)
Oye, mamabicho (dile)
Deja de mentira
A todo lo' que tú se lo' mama'
'Tá chotiando, cumpliendo vida (que feo)
Compadre, si tuviera tiro
Vendiera libreta o vendiera kilo (my name is Papi)
Lo meno que usted haria seria dicerlo (que claro)
Muy poco bandito llega vivo a retiro (muy poco)
El futuro es presidio (my name is Papi)
O protección de testigo, canto 'e chota (oh)
Arranca pa carajo, hombre no?
Que, que? What, What
Written by:
Chris Basham, Jeff Washington, Joell Christopher Ortiz, Nathaniel De La Rosa, Tashfiqur Patwary, Tegui Calderon Rosario
Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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