Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Don't Like The Look Of It, artist - Lil Wayne. Date of issue: 31.12.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I Don't Like The Look Of It |
| Ok Im sippin on the syrup |
| Got a n-gga moving slow |
| I’m all about the money |
| What the f-ck you think I do it for |
| B-tch don’t act like you don’t know |
| I’m killing all these rap n-ggas |
| Custom made caskets for you muthaf-cka funerals |
| Keep the women with me |
| Sh-t I gotta keep like two or more |
| Party everyday like we won the f-cking Superbowl |
| Chillin wit my n-gga Mack, he keep b-tches handy |
| White girl on the table love them sniff nose candy |
| When I’m walking by the women say «Who is that n-gga?» |
| I replied «Hi, I am Gudda Gudda that n-gga» |
| I was raised in the home of da Cap Splitters |
| Whip on 24′s watch it crawl like a caterpillar |
| I come with a toy boy like a Happy Meal |
| And yous a muthaf-ckin' duck, Daffy Dill |
| I’m from the school of Hard Knocks, where we scrap and kill |
| Pick the knife or gunner, you can get the package deal |
| I’m hot n-gga, burning everything around me |
| I was lost for a minute took a while but I found me |
| The streets say I’m King but the game will never crown me |
| Realist n-gga doin it just ask the n-ggas around me |
| So you cant size me up or try to clown uh |
| Shark in the water jump in and Imma drown ya |
| New Orleans n-gga, Gun out, Imma down ya |
| Put n-ggas to sleep like a muthaf-ckin' downer |
| Imma Great White, yous a flounder |
| Fish and a b-tch I tuna eveything around ya |
| U-Haul Gudda, moving everything around ya |
| It’s Young Money Bitch |
| At the top is where they found us |
| Uhh, Goons on deck |
| Marley don’t shoot em' |
| Silence on the gun |
| Watch a n-gga mute em' |
| The coach in the booth |
| Call me Jon Gruden |
| School these n-ggas, they all my students |
| All jokes aside, I ain’t playin' wit cha |
| The weed broke down, like a transmission |
| Tha choppa spin him round, like a ballerina |
| B-tch I’m still spittin like I ate a Jalapeño |
| I’m from uptown, my bitch from Argentina |
| My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena |
| Stunt so hard, it’s all y’all fault |
| And when it come to beef give me A1 Sauce |
| I ain’t worryin bout sh-t, Everything paid out |
| You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade’s house |
| Wit a high yellow thick b-tch wit her legs out |
| Cash Money president but we in a red house |
| Who the f-ck want it? |
| Make my f-ckin' day |
| I blow your candles out, now n-gga cut that cake |
| I gotta eat bitches, like a run-away |
| Y’all n-ggas ain’t eatin, stomach ache |
| Ok, all these b-tches, And n-ggas still hatin |
| I used to be ballin', But now I’m Bill Gate’n |
| F-ckin with my iPhone, bumpin Illmatic |
| I’m on the road to riches, there’s just a lil traffic |
| Hair still platted, thuggin is a habbit |
| Keep my guitar, Hip-Hop Lenny Kravitz |
| Bunch of bad b-tches and I f-ck em like rabbits |
| Dope d-ck Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, Uhh |