Who Fucks Wit Me (Feat. Avery Storm) - Nelly

Who Fucks Wit Me (Feat. Avery Storm) Lyrics

Woo! yeah[Chorus]
I ain't even gotta talk no more
All my letters speak for itself
You see my numbers, you can add 'em up
(Now who fucks with me?)
I ain't even gotta rap no more (no!)
My money works for itself
I'm runnin' interest while I'm sleepin' man
(Now who fucks with me?)
(Yeah, now who fucks with me?)
(Now who fucks with me?)
(Hey, now who fucks with me?)
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh (I'm earnin' interest as I'm speakin' man)
(Now who fucks with me?)I ain't even gon' talk no mo'
When you done with the minors ma come to the pros
See I could put you in all them clothes
Your neck, wrist, ears, hands, all that froze
He could never ever put you in a rose

But anything goes when you dealin' with the baller
Stand on my money if I wanna be taller
Smack him with a G, I bet he go and get his lawyer
'Cause he really wanna sue me
Take the bitch route, cause he know he cannot do me
Know he can't outdo me in the records or the movies
Man, I don't want your girl, plus I heard she got the cooties
If you mean what you feel then I mean what I said
You don't like cheap sex, I laid a mil' on the bed
Spread it all out and we can roll around in it
Hop off in the whip and we can roll around in it
In the back seat and we can go to town in it
Or maybe on the hood, sound profound, did it?
He ain't get the message ma, act like he ain't get it
He ain't catch a hint when you gave him back his rented
Now his lil' condo one less tenant
And I did it, but you know what?[Chorus:]Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Well who you know with ten mil' on a plaque?
Hit the Superbowl once so they brought me on back
Ride around with my Grammy's on the 'Llac
Better bag up nigga, Nelly bonds are the bag
Me be the rapper, Nicky Bonds be the crack
Think I fell off when they fell from the track
You wanna come to Nellyville I'll draw you the map
Follow that yellow brick road
Follow that rainbow of diamonds down to the gold
Follow shorty as she slide down a pole
He tryna make it rain but it's comin' down slow
I hope he got the gloves cause I'm about to make it snow
(Ohh, ohh, ohhh...)
Like kids seein Santa when I walked in the club
(Hohh, hohh, hohhh...)
But I only brought presents for the girls
Listen, play with me nigga if you wanna, if you feel
Won't kill at will but will kill Bill
Somebody better grab Bill, tell him to chill
Before somebody find him buried in the hills
(Ah, ah, ahh...)
I got a reach, try on an order myself and such
(Ah, ah, ahh...)
'Cause I be feelin' myself too much, now listen[Chorus:]Woo! Ohh
Uh, uh - now who fucks with me?
Yeah, I ain't even gon' talk no mo'
(I ain't even gon' talk talk talk no mo', talk talk no mo')
I ain't even gon' talk no mo'
(I ain't even gonna talk no mo', talk no mo')
Now who fucks with me?[Chorus:]
Songwriters
CHRISTOPHER SALEH, MATTHEW BATTLE, RALPH N. DISTASIO, CORNELL HAYNESPublished by
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