Meek Mill - Ham Music lyrics

They ain’t fucking with me, New Orleans NO
Old school bitch I let her
Blow me like nintendo black panamera
Me and Mac are getting lit though
Switching lanes in that thang 5
Percent tint on the windows
I got 20 in my pocket, 30 on wrist
50 on my neck keep it 100 in this bitch
Hey listen we don’t do no talking
I’m just running up in your shit
And I was never in the walking
I’m just running up in your pick
I say my swagger on infinity
Money it ain't a limit
Real nigga every day, start and to the finish
You should hear this roar when
I’m starting up the engine
Sounding like a motherfucker lion barking
All up in it make a dollar every second
Thousands on the hour
20 everyday, I’m getting money in the power
I was told never let the
Youngins get the powder
But now these niggas slipping like
They're fucking in the shower pause
I really do this
I’m 6'2 and with Ricky Ross
I’m getting to it, you niggas loosing shit
I’m a boss
Yeah I took a loss, I was out in vegas
Me and Gucci Poochy, shooting at the tables
When I was broke, I used to have a dream
Before I had a dream best
Believe I had them fiends
Steady blowing up my celly
Trying to get it any means
My nigga swoochy in the kitchen
Working up the triple-beams
Breaking ounces off the birdie
Money it was dirty
And hammers they was filthy cause niggas
Was trying to kill me
And that’s word to Osama though
Fuck a bitch and vamonos
Niggas and they diss raps
They don't want no drama though
Leaning off the prometh
Sipping Aunt Jemima though
Rollie all bussed down
Call that perfect timing though
Tell my jeweler freeze me
Just to change the climate ho
Bottom of the mountain and Meek
Milly got the climbing though
Your chick my chick, my chick your chick
My swag fly shit, your swag, norbit
Nigga you’re a weirdo, no match forfeit
All these fucking bricks i’m thinking
We gonn need a forklift
Coolest on your stereo
I don’t think they hear me though
Catch me in the hood
I be around just like the marry-go
Used to sell them little O's
I ain’t talking cheerios
I’m talking about them golden grahams and
I don’t eat no cereal
Murder on your record label
Nigga I’m a serial
Killer plus I’m realer this
Is scarier than thriller
In the villa counting trilla
With shorty she vanilla as far as work
I make that fucking butter
Fly like caterpillars
And my flow be on some other shit
Hotter than an oven get
I just got his girl's number
He gon' need another bitch
Maker her fuck my other bitch
Then put her on a punishment
She said she in love with me
And she don't know my government
Shorty tripping, where your luggage at
Broke niggas never seen me cause
I'm where the money at
All I know is hustle hard
Like a got a hundred pack
A nigga get my jewels, I'mma kill him
And I don't want them back
Wear them to your funeral
Be stunting while they're viewing you
Momma wouldn't notice
She's like what the hell they do to you
Clip full of hollow heads
Make me put a few in you
Yeah nigga, I will ruin you