Young Money - Finale lyrics

What it do, nigga this your nigga T-Streets
Bang bang in the building this Young Money
First up, my nigga Gudda Gudda
Double G, blap, blap

They call me Young Gudda
I'm all about the dough still
And anybody in my way: roadkill
Everything my hands touch turn to gold
Money, knots, and jewels with
No records sold, yeah
I'm manhandlin' rappers with no effort
So imagine what'll happen when
I start applyin' pressure
Guillotine flow, who ready to get severed
Nigga?
In or out the booth, you could get leveled
Nigga

Now we gonna take it to Harlem, Millzy



L’eggo! Yo, we are Young Money (Yes)
Nigga, your camp chocha
It's ‘bout to get real ugly Omarosa
YM vultures, it ain't a family doper
We done changed the way the
Game look Sammy Sosa (Ha)
This is life, this ain't a job
The Audemars and Chapard just
Symbolize I go hard navy on Navy Camaro
I did it all for the Yankees (L'eggo)
Did it all for New York and this love
No need to thank me millz!

Now we gonna take to the West Coast
Tyga Tyga

Ugh, fast money, I don't slow dance
Young Money, motherfucker, 'til the world end
Money overweight, bitch Roseanne
I don't listen to these kids grown man
Skinny nigga, dope though, ugh, Lohan
Lindsey, the white Benz, same color Mike skin
Make your soul spin when the ping loading
Au revoir, goodbye, now applaud

Yeah, now it’s child’s play, nigga
My lil' G, Lil' Chuckee

Young Money lil' G, battle juice in my blood
Jumpin' at the boy, man
You better have your bungee cord
Since Wayne took me off the leash
I ain't lose a fight yet
Now, come drag your dog out the ring
How you love that? Young with an attitude
Watch how you talk to me
Keep playin' Freddy, boy
I'll leak on your Elm Street
Trouble is what you want, dog
Pain is what you don't get
It's Young Money to the bone gristle
You dig?

Now we got the hottest nigga on the internet
Lil' Twist Hefner, what it do?

Ugh! Young Money, good night and yeah
I'm gon' shine like a ultraviolet light
Lil' Twist gonna sell out
Like it's opening tonight
Going for the fist nigga to write
You need a telescope sight to try to see me
I'm so far gone
Even though I'm going off, kids
I'm so far on i got a house full of
Chicks like the Playboy home
Wrappin' up my lifestyle and
I smashed this song, twizzy

Yeah, next up, we got
The best rapstress alive, nicki Minaj

I'm in that cotton-pickin' Bent
Put massa on the guts white on white whips
Kunta Kinte on the clutch
You at the bottom of the pole totem
Like Lamar Odom, I ball scrotum
Flyer than a cricket so they
Call me "Nicki Jiminy"
And it's going down like
Santa in the chim-i-ney
You don't ball, break your baby back ribs
You need more assist than
The handicapped kids oh, shit

And now, the beautiful Miss Shanell

Young Money, we’re rockstars
So fuck with your Magnum on
And hold on, we go long
You feel that, we get that
We in that, we run that we bust back
We hit them and we see
Them comin' back for more back for more

Next up, my nigga Mack Maine
Stupid Mack-nupid, one hundred

Microwave family in the building
You can't hold us
Me, Tez, and Wayne, we the three new moguls
Buffet around here
Y'all boys scrape the plates
And we don't eat up in our whips
But they got paper plates
Soon as we leave the club, damn
Where the models go one word I forgot to say
On his album: "Hollygrove!"
This track is the finale, nah
This the genesis
Young Money murderers, we killin' shit
Forever

Toronto drizzy
Get ‘em

Alright, I got this, you can never get this
I built it up from nothing
You would think I'm playin' Tetris
Thousand dollar sweater on
But I don’t never sweat shit
Swear the beats they give me
Got a motherfuckin’ death wish
Yeah, tell me, who controls kings?
I don't follow rules, stupid old things
I'm flyin' through the city in
A coupe with those wings
And my team deserves some
Motherfuckin' Super Bowl rings young Money

Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy!

I'm so in this bitch, CEO in this bitch
Lil Weezy stand tall, tippy-toe in this bitch
Blood Gang, motherfucker
Da da doe in this bitch
Make your girl get Barry
Mani-low in this bitch
In the body of the world, money is the blood
And every day
I be back and forward to the blood bank
Ugh, makin' deposit's 'til I fucking faint
New Orleans
Nigga: How 'bout them fucking Saints?
It's tight on our end
Call that "Bubba Franks"
Matter-fact, it's too tight add
A couple links
I'm the bar’s tender, you a woman drink
Yeah, it's Young Money, but the money ain't
Gudda tough, 'Nelly nice, Nick' nasty
Streets bad, Tyga ill, Drake magic
Millz Harlem, Chuck wild, Twist Dallas
And Mack Maine rap, sing and manage, ugh!

It's Young Mula, baby!