I Don't Like The Look Of It (Explicit Version)
Lil Wayne feat. Gudda Gudda - 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 *****
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 **** 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 ***** 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 b*****s, 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
**** d-ck Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, Uhh