(BET Hip Hop Awards '11; performed by Busta Rhymes, Reek da Villain, 2 Chainz and Ludacris)
[Verse 1: Reek Da Villain]
Aye yo weak minded bitches fall victim because my charm's strong jazzy pair of louis on my feet Chewy Armstrong
Ma couldn't be my cheerleader with platinum pom-poms she the type to misrepresent a king like Lebron's mom
Beating on my chest with a crown King Kong Don Langston Hughes I write a poem that do the Bible psalms harm
These other rappers want problems then bring it on umm this rapping beef
is nothing my studio's in it's long form and all cowards'll become
victims of man
Keep a 5th of Remy and a stick of piff in my hand yeh they fly but I'm a
pilot that no one can understand plus the way I go ham'll make a Muslim
say damn
Hustle hard trips to Miami for three days so I can meet with the
connects and get the D Wade run up in the Gucci store and drop 3k you
bum I could get your whole outfit out of BJ's
Lyrical scientist leaving mics with psoriasis so it's {bleeped} as
Michael Myer's psychiatrist pyrics suppliacist who being lying stiff
when the iron spits I come alone just me and one 9 Johnny {Unitis}
And let my bitch serenade through these slums and blow so much loud I need a hearing aid for my lungs
And as far as metaphors rate this I was a snail 'til haters threw salt on me and I dissolved into greatness
[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
What goes around comes around like a hula hoop. Hair weave killa I'll show up to your funeral
All this work I need a cubicle. Clear coat cuticle. Different color diamonds like a rubrics cube
If this was New Edition, I'll be Bobby Brown. Put the check over your head and call it Nike Town
How could I be down? Free Boosie, wipe me down. My credit card is black and proud
I've been trapping since roxies had the ankles out. I'm going to the money and I took the paper route
Uh Yeh, I'm hood approved and I'm street tested. You a nobody; anorexic
If you stay next to me you're close to a blessing. So, I'm guessin' I
could get arrested for aggravated flexin' with all this ice on. My mic
on, I apply pressure like a python. And everybody know this that body
flow; bench press, cardio. They try to cramp a nigga style like a
Charlie horse
Yeh, they plot on you, and they drop on ya. I put a Glock to your eye and call it glaucoma
Bow! From 30 nights of sipping dirty Sprite. I call this shit Bluetooth because I don't need a mic. 2Chainz
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