Lyrics I'm Good Terrorists - Lil Wayne, Meek Mill

I'm Good Terrorists

I’m so fucking awesome — my marbles, I lost ‘em
I’m taking everything — everything but precaution
Your bitches wanna call us, and text us like Austin
Pussy make me hard, pussy niggas make me nauseous
I’ve been on my feet since the day I started walking
Bitch, I think I’m MC Hammer, put the nail in the coffin
See coke in a drought, sell pussy at an auction
Bullets got a nigga runnin' fast enough to race horses
‘Round here, you sniff these lines, you don’t cross ‘em
Kill your ass and leave you behind, like an orphan
I swear it happens all the time, very often
Still gettin' baseball money, Barry Larkin
‘Round here we play for keeps, yeah we eatin' but we starvin'
I get me a little money, try to spread it like margarine
I’m flyer than a motherfucker, all my flights chartered
Green kush, red flag, black car, white lawyer
I’m good
I say, I go in in my beast mode — rappin' niggas I eat those
I tell a bitch take a deep breath then bend her knees like a free throw
I don’t want me no good girl, I fell in love with these freak hoes
In my bedroom, I’ll make a movie, it’s starring me with that Lee Rose
I ball hard like D-rose, my stash on closet
Racks in my pocket, these racks I deposit
Got racks on my conscious, money on my mind
I’ve got shooters on my team, they’ve got bodies on their nines
Look at that bad bitch right there — see that body on that dime?
I ain’t swimming in no hoe, you know I’m probably on that grind
All these niggas hatin' on me, me — but I ain’t on that time, time
I be in that back, nigga, and I ain’t talkin' 'bout swine
I’m talkin' 62 West, they say a nigga too fresh
You a rat, your homie singing, you should do a duet
Shorty say she love my swag, I make that pussy too wet
You niggas banned, and my hoes, and I’m like «why'd they do that?
«Go!
Um, I don’t have a conscious — all my friends are monsters
They visit me so constant and talk to me about nonsense
Like stabbing you and then watching you fight for your life like you boxing
Bitch, deuce-deuce — I smoke that OG killer, Bobby Johnson
I’ll ollie over that bitch’s head, it’s Hollygrove 'til I’m fuckin' dead
I did a bid for that toast, so fuck with me, I’ll treat you like buttered bread
But I still go hard with no regard — Earth Day?
Shit, bitch, go to Mars
Leave a nigga dead in the gutter
I just beat him with a bloody-ass bowling ball
I’m fresh as hand sanitizer — don’t hate the game, just analyze it
Two Xanax, I’m fantasizing about fat bitches' panty sizes
Took a bullet to the chest?
Be a man about it
Stop actin' like a little bitch, nigga
Most of y’all niggas is bitch niggas
I got a tiger in the basement, Big Tigger
My hair long and my dick big
My hair long and my dick big
My hair long and my dick big
My money long and my weed strong
I feed hunger, I no longer get my weed from Fee
I pull that freedom off my waist, now watch me let freedom ring (ding)