This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
(Dramatic, nigga)
Yeah, Dedication 3
Uh, well alright, here I go
I'm a rapper-turned-singer, and you can tell that he smoke
But I don't need my vocal cords, all I hit is C-notes
N.E.R.D. flow, I spaz if I'm pre-voked
I'm about to change the fucking game, pass the remote
Money is everything, and it's every other thing
I'm part of the choir, that's the motto that my brother sing
Cash is the right now, women are postgame
MoneyOverBitches dot com, check the domain
It's comin' too soon, album on the way
People ask me if I pray, I say, "Yeah, once in a blue moon"
Oops, I mean a red moon, I did it again, Tune
Let me leave a space in for your Blood affiliation, I state
Heavy metaphors, flow so overweight
I could rap around these other youngin's like a cobra snake
Frostbite Drizzy, nigga, nobody as cold as Drake
Keep your ass in-line, don't be tryna roller skate
Fuck all the discrete shit, I get on some deep shit
I am 21, tell me, who do I compete with?
I'm on my elite shit, you could tell I'm real
'Cause I'm gettin' hood love and I ain't even talkin' street shit
Young Angel, Young Lion, I'm done tryin'
I'm just doin', who's drinkin'? 'Cause I'm buyin'
It's on me, everything is on me
And my girl is still down like she's fuckin' Jon B
And when I go dumb, I tend to do dumb shit
I just listened back and now I'm sounding like a trumpet
This for all the strippers 'cause I know that they gon' bump it
Tell 'em, "Back it up and dump it, back it, back it up and dump it"
Ain't no pistols here, your money will disappear
My accountant will feed his family off my fiscal year
Tax brackets and back-and-forth faxes
My money coming full circle, get up on my axis
Nebby, I'ma kill 'em, only 'cause I promised
They think I'm bein' cocky, but I'm only bein' honest
I'm swallowin' the Goose, got a model gettin' loose
And I never party 'less I got some bottles in the booth
I just walk up on the scene, I'm about to take this
I'm just havin' patience, 'cause I want it to make sense
White cup, orange pop, Tennessee State shit
Drop a four in it and appreciate the greatness, Drizzy
(Gangsta)
I just want y'all to remember
That this is the first mixtape you bumped
While you had a Black president
Yeah, p-p-pass the dro (Gangsta)
I am such a beast and you can ask them hoes
And they might even say you should leave me alone
And homie's scared, 'cause his bitch like me
Stuntin' is a habit, get it from my daddy
Just like Shaggy, I tote that boom-bastic
I'm a rude bastard, I don't give a fuck 'bout y'all
I ain't talkin' marbles, you can pluck my balls
And yes, I'm fallin', but up, I fall
And if your bitch in heat, she could fuck my dog
I went from penny pinchin' to private planes
Never sat on any benches, I got in games
Starter, Carter, ball harder
Ten girls, penthouse suite, y'all order
Whatever y'all please, wine, crackers, and cheese
They take off their clothes and put on my tees
The supplement I've taken got me feelin' mighty
My gun and money don't split, call that shit Siamese
Yes, my watch make the frickin' time freeze
Your girl bless me, she suck my dick and I sneeze
Cheap-ass apartment, just the kitchen I need
And 18 G's is why the chicken crossed the street
Whatcha know 'bout it? My niggas so about it
If you kill everybody, they can't go to court about it
Weezy, I ignore the liars, baby, I ignite the fire
I am like a Michael Myers, leave your body in the dryer
Got the shotty on the side of me, my bad boys follow me
I'm a bad boy, obviously, pop one at your Ivy League
I don't have a rivalry, if so, you'll have a cah-sualty
Oops, I meant a casualty, oops, I meant catastrophe
Oops, I meant, actually, you niggas is just ass to me
And big, wet pussy is more like what I'm rather-ing
Welcome to the gathering, welcome to the burying
Or I hang you on the wall like a art gallery
You got short salary, and I got long money
I got Cash Money, I got Young Money, bitch (Gangsta)
See, I told y'all it'd be well worth the wait, right?
Dedication 3
Chris, fuck with me
C'mon, it's Mr. Thanksgiving you're talking about
Thanks for sure
Yeah, Dedication 3
Uh, well alright, here I go
I'm a rapper-turned-singer, and you can tell that he smoke
But I don't need my vocal cords, all I hit is C-notes
N.E.R.D. flow, I spaz if I'm pre-voked
I'm about to change the fucking game, pass the remote
Money is everything, and it's every other thing
I'm part of the choir, that's the motto that my brother sing
Cash is the right now, women are postgame
MoneyOverBitches dot com, check the domain
It's comin' too soon, album on the way
People ask me if I pray, I say, "Yeah, once in a blue moon"
Oops, I mean a red moon, I did it again, Tune
Let me leave a space in for your Blood affiliation, I state
Heavy metaphors, flow so overweight
I could rap around these other youngin's like a cobra snake
Frostbite Drizzy, nigga, nobody as cold as Drake
Keep your ass in-line, don't be tryna roller skate
Fuck all the discrete shit, I get on some deep shit
I am 21, tell me, who do I compete with?
I'm on my elite shit, you could tell I'm real
'Cause I'm gettin' hood love and I ain't even talkin' street shit
Young Angel, Young Lion, I'm done tryin'
I'm just doin', who's drinkin'? 'Cause I'm buyin'
It's on me, everything is on me
And my girl is still down like she's fuckin' Jon B
And when I go dumb, I tend to do dumb shit
I just listened back and now I'm sounding like a trumpet
This for all the strippers 'cause I know that they gon' bump it
Tell 'em, "Back it up and dump it, back it, back it up and dump it"
Ain't no pistols here, your money will disappear
My accountant will feed his family off my fiscal year
Tax brackets and back-and-forth faxes
My money coming full circle, get up on my axis
Nebby, I'ma kill 'em, only 'cause I promised
They think I'm bein' cocky, but I'm only bein' honest
I'm swallowin' the Goose, got a model gettin' loose
And I never party 'less I got some bottles in the booth
I just walk up on the scene, I'm about to take this
I'm just havin' patience, 'cause I want it to make sense
White cup, orange pop, Tennessee State shit
Drop a four in it and appreciate the greatness, Drizzy
(Gangsta)
I just want y'all to remember
That this is the first mixtape you bumped
While you had a Black president
Yeah, p-p-pass the dro (Gangsta)
I am such a beast and you can ask them hoes
And they might even say you should leave me alone
And homie's scared, 'cause his bitch like me
Stuntin' is a habit, get it from my daddy
Just like Shaggy, I tote that boom-bastic
I'm a rude bastard, I don't give a fuck 'bout y'all
I ain't talkin' marbles, you can pluck my balls
And yes, I'm fallin', but up, I fall
And if your bitch in heat, she could fuck my dog
I went from penny pinchin' to private planes
Never sat on any benches, I got in games
Starter, Carter, ball harder
Ten girls, penthouse suite, y'all order
Whatever y'all please, wine, crackers, and cheese
They take off their clothes and put on my tees
The supplement I've taken got me feelin' mighty
My gun and money don't split, call that shit Siamese
Yes, my watch make the frickin' time freeze
Your girl bless me, she suck my dick and I sneeze
Cheap-ass apartment, just the kitchen I need
And 18 G's is why the chicken crossed the street
Whatcha know 'bout it? My niggas so about it
If you kill everybody, they can't go to court about it
Weezy, I ignore the liars, baby, I ignite the fire
I am like a Michael Myers, leave your body in the dryer
Got the shotty on the side of me, my bad boys follow me
I'm a bad boy, obviously, pop one at your Ivy League
I don't have a rivalry, if so, you'll have a cah-sualty
Oops, I meant a casualty, oops, I meant catastrophe
Oops, I meant, actually, you niggas is just ass to me
And big, wet pussy is more like what I'm rather-ing
Welcome to the gathering, welcome to the burying
Or I hang you on the wall like a art gallery
You got short salary, and I got long money
I got Cash Money, I got Young Money, bitch (Gangsta)
See, I told y'all it'd be well worth the wait, right?
Dedication 3
Chris, fuck with me
C'mon, it's Mr. Thanksgiving you're talking about
Thanks for sure
Lyrics submitted by Breakingbenjaminfan
Stuntin Lyrics as written by Tyree Simmons Dwayne Carter
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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