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Fuck Da Bullshit (feat. Birdman)

Yeah, cut me up, gimme a light

Yeah, and by the way nigga it's Young Mula, first ladyUh, yo, yo, let us begin with a bad lil' specimen

Ballenciaga's is all these things I be steppin' in

Pucci baby suits, only thing I'm dressin' in

'Cause I get wetter than a navy seal veteranGot 'em writin' love letters in they journal

Keep 'em in these toes like a midget at the urinal

Bad as I wanna be

She ain't bad, she a sad and a wanna beYeah, fuck da bullshit, it's big money poppin'

Young Mula, yeah, just like that

What up young nigga?

Let's go, GuddaOkay, we runnin' this shit when we walk in the buildin'

Got bitches from wall to wall, hoes hangin' from the ceilin'

Young Money, we 'bout to kill 'em, I promise I'll make a million

And if they didn't have no hands I'll bet 'em bitches gon' feel 'emI'm talkin' money and power, you getting' money? I doubt it

Fresher than baby powder with your bitch in the shower

That pussy I'ma devour, I beat it up 'til it's sour

No need for you to even trip, bitch, I'll be done in an hour, let's goThey say the blacker the berry, the redder the cherry

I say the sweeter it is ya dig bury

Then the bullshit varies and it got me wary

But I know two of the same, call it murdered and marriedHustlin' is so necessary with no avisaries

But it ain't no love like a calendar with no February

I'ma need four secretaries and 4 Bloody Mary's

I'ma go eat me sum pussy and choke up the cherry, I'm goneYeah, fully loaded with it, to the ceilin' with it

More money than ya ever seen nigga, aight, Drizzy DrakeKill the game, no one recovers the murder weapon

Young angel, if you hate me tell me, burn in heaven

How'd you sleep on me, the highest earning freshmen

Like ya third infection, I hope you learned ya lessonYeah, I spit raw but I prefer protection

I own a heart and a mind and a shirt she slept in

Bitch, I got the answer and still ain't heard the question

I shut ya club down, please reserve my sectionFuck a confrontation, they ain't no cakin' it

And I'm cakin' bitch so tell me why I take a break from it

The mother of your child always tell you I'm her favorite

She call me her baby, not the one she was in labor withShe say, "Oh, you taste good", I say, "Oh, just savor it"

She know that she love a nigga, I be on that major shit

'Cause I get paid to stand and I get paid to sit

So I don't walk around with money, baby girl, I'm made of it

Songwriters

Unknown;Andrew Wansel;Warren FelderPublished by

SONGS OF UNIVERSAL, INC.;SONY/ATV SONGS LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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