Nicki Minaj - Click Clack lyrics

Click clack motherfuckers
I ain't tryna to hear nothin’

A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you
So when I lift the shirt
That's the end of discussion
Click clack motherfuckers
I ain't tryna hear nothin’

They call me Nicolas
(yeah) , style defined as ridiculous (Okay)
I beg your pardon, meet me at the Garden
The number one draft, I'm New York's pick
And I don't lose like them dudes
On the New York Knicks
(Woo) Check it, I'm overseas
Rockin’ hella capris
I'm in the West Indies, eatin' delicacies
I tell 'em, they want Kane like Erica? Please
Brotha your money young
Like that nigga Jeezy these broke rappers
Always rappin' 'bout a pink truck
I'm only happy
When I'm hoppin' out the Brinks truck (Woo)
And I don't need a sixteen, I got a sentence
I goes in on a fucker, like an entrance
These old bitches
Better change they dentures (What up)
When I get in the game
They gon' play the benches (Okay)
Fuck your friendship, pay attention (Uh, huh)
Bitch, get at me? I'ma pay my henchmen

A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you
So when I lift the shirt
That's the end of discussion
Click clack motherfuckers
I ain't tryna hear nothin’

They call me Maraj
(yeah) , fuck you, and fuck your squad (Woo)
Head bitch in charge
I ain't talkin' bout the Taj (Nope)
I'm on the other line
I ain't talkin' bout call waitin' (Listen)
I'm VIP lil' mama, I just walk straight in
(Woo)
Lil' Dolce & Gabbana got this broad hatin'
That's why I pop up in the Porsche
With the top vacant (yeah)
Mami stop fakin', talkin' bout what you got
You ain't got nathen, and you're not cakin’
You're not my taste
(Nope) , get out of my face (Yes)
I play the top
Like eight friends on your MySpace (Woo-woo)
Stay in a child's place, check the timin'
I rock bitches
Like they throwin' up the diamonds
(It's the Roc)
Get on a flight, I be bakin' on islands
Mami, your accent sounds faker than Dylan
Murder 'dem, murder 'dem
Fuck a competition, already murdered them
(Woo-woo)

A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you
So when I lift the shirt
That's the end of discussion
Click clack motherfuckers
I ain't tryna hear nothin’

They call me Nicki M
(Woo-woo) , hard to find me in a sticky benz
I play the club with a thug
And some pretty friends (What up?)
And if they ain't got the gat
They got the knife on (Yes sir)
You're too wack to get up on one of my songs
(Whoop) you got a deal, cause you
Was givin' up the coochie, prolly
(Ugh)
But I'll arrange one hit, like "Oochie Wally"
(Ugh)
(Gone 'til November) And you'll be gone 'til
November, like Wyclef (You'll be gone
'til November) i hold weight and I
Ain't talkin' ‘bout biceps
I rep Queens like a crown
(Yes) , when I'm in the town (Yes)
Ask Yung Joc, it's goin' down (Yes)
Kisses to my bitches, and my niggas
Get a pound
June, turn me up (Mic check) How I sound?
Bitches don't know the half
Like they flunked that math
Give a fuck about a bitch
And the clique she wit’
Unless, you doin' them numbers
Like arithmetic
Young Nick, holla back and turn up my shit
(Woo-woo)

A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard
I was told only reach for the heat if you-
So when I lift the shirt
That's the end of discussion
Click clack motherfuckers
I ain't tryna hear nothin’