Fuck Da Bullshit
Title | Fuck Da Bullshit |
---|---|
Artist | Young Money |
Album | We Are Young Money |
Release Date | 2009-12-21 |
Description | This song is on the Young Money debut album Each rapper made a point, that they are cool as fuck. Nicki has boys all on her. Gudda and Weezy got girls. And Drake is just rich and wonderful |
Lyrics | [Intro: Birdman & Nicki Minaj] Yeah Cut it up, gimme a light Yeah, and by the way, nigga It's Young Mula First Lady Ugh, yo, yo [Verse 1: Nicki Minaj] Let us begin with a bad lil' specimen Balenciagas, only things I be steppin in Pucci bathing suits, only thing I'm dressing in 'Cause I get wetter than a navy seal veteran Got—Got 'em writin love letters in they jour-n-al Keep 'em on they toes like a midget at the urinal Bad—Bad—Bad-Bad—Bad—Bad as I wanna be She ain't bad, she a sad little wannabe [Interlude: Birdman] Yeah. Fuck the bullshit. It's big money popping. Young Mula! Yeah, just like that. What up, young nigga? Let's go. Gudda, brrrat! [Verse 2: Gudda Gudda] Okay, we running this shit, when we walk in the building Got bitches from wall to wall, hoes hangin from the ceiling Young Money we 'bout to kill 'em, I promise I make a million And if they didn't have no hands I'll bet them bitches gon' feel 'em I'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 a hour, let's go [Interlude: Birdman & Lil Wayne] Yeah Yeah, that's more like it Junior! [Verse 3: Lil Wayne & Birdman] They say the blacker the berry, the redder the cherry I say the sweeter it is—you dig? Buried Then the bullshit varies, and it got me wary But I know two are the same—call it "murdered" and "married" (Believe that!) Hustling is so necessary, with no adversaries But ain't no love, like a calendar with no Februarys I'ma need four secretary, and four Bloody Marys I'ma go eat me some pussy, and choke off the cherry—I'm gone You might also like[Interlude: Birdman] Yeah, fully loaded with it To the ceiling with it More money than you ever seen, nigga! Aight, Drizzy, Drake— [Verse 4: Drake & Birdman] Look, kill the game, no one recovers the murder weapon Young Angel, if you hate me tell me burn in heaven (Brrrrat!) How'd ya sleep on me? The highest earnin freshmen Like your third infection, I hope you learned your lesson (Yeah) Yeah, 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 your club down, please reserve my section Fuck a confrontation, there ain't no cake in it And I'm caking, bitch, so tell me why I'd 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 with She say, "Ooh, you taste good," I say, "Ooh, 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 |