Supa Dupa Lemonade

LETRA

Supa Dupa Lemonade

I do it
Do it, do it
B-I G, Finally Famous getting money
G.O.O.D. music, look
What up Earl Mac
My ni*** Tone say he so Westside
It's a damn shame
Me too, D-Town, D-Town

[Verse 1: Big Sean]
D-Town, Westside
Yeah I said it, Westside
But they yelling big so much
That you would thought it's Bed-Stuy
You are now fuc*** with the newest ni*** best out
Go on, roll that weed ni***, cause I'm stressed out
L-V checked out
Bad bitch, chest out
No wonder why Mrs. Right just keeps on getting left out
Oh well that's everything I'm not concerning, f*** it
I'm on the top floor getting brains, higher learning
Getting higher earnings and my desires yearning
Running through that paper like my attorney
Hundred blunts rolled, you can smell the fire burning
I'm in the fast lane, you can smell my tires burning
Exercise, flex on guys
Model chick
Sex on thighs
Bump a lot
A Lexus drive
I might let Alexis drive
Jesus chain, testify
I over accessorize
Test her out, now she gon' need a stretcher when I stretch her out
When it's time to speak, bet all of ya'll listen
When you up in the party
Why is all the broads missing
And I just drop lines like a ni*** gone fishing
Man and I be on them posters like that ni*** gone missin'
And I spit that er-retarded shit just call it autism
I'm so Hollywood that I might make your bitch audition
Before we cut
Cut, cut
Movie time, cut
I'ma dick her down, you gon' pick her up
And I'm unusual as shit
I'm Superbad, your girl probably doodling my dick
And it's a couple screws up in my head that could use a fuc*** wrench
And I'm just looking at the game like
Damn, they could use a fuc*** bench, bitch
And my name all up in the rafters
She gon' make me cum, I bet that money come faster
Kanye first, then I'm coming after
And Lou' Vuitton shoes ho
Dons and the Jaspers
Who her, I ran through her walls
Made her scream and disappear but hell no my name is not Casper
Boy, what the f*** these rappers sound like
Just a whole bunch of my sound bites
First whip, garbo
Second whip, Largo
Don't worry bout my niggas Thurgood Marshall
Bank account got me feeling Well, Fargo
Balling til I get a Milicic Darko
I did that
I just give them line after line, after line
After line, after line barcode
They looking for my work, Narco
Cause I just black out in the booth, charcoal
Me, Don C, Tone and fifty-four bitches
Since we finna blow, I bet they finna blow ni***
Two pounds of weed, don't act like you don't know ni***
I put that green up, like mistletoe ni***

Yeah boy, boy boy
Finally Famous in this, getting money
F-F ho
D-town
G.O.O.D. Music ni***
Bangladesh
Say these niggas get off my dick
These niggas sit down