Lyrics Fuck tha Bullshit - Birdman , Young Money
Yeah,
cut
me
up,
gimme
a
light
Yeah,
and
by
the
way
nigga
it's
Young
Mula,
first
lady
Uh,
yo,
yo,
let
us
begin
with
a
bad
lil'
specimen
Ballenciaga's
is
all
these
things
I
be
steppin'
in
Pucci
baby
suits,
only
thing
I'm
dressin'
in
'Cause
I
get
wetter
than
a
navy
seal
veteran
Got
'em
writin'
love
letters
in
they
journal
Keep
'em
in
these
toes
like
a
midget
at
the
urinal
Bad
as
I
wanna
be
She
ain't
bad,
she
a
sad
and
a
wanna
be
Yeah,
fuck
da
bullshit,
it's
big
money
poppin'
Young
Mula,
yeah,
just
like
that
What
up
young
nigga?
Let's
go,
Gudda
Okay,
we
runnin'
this
shit
when
we
walk
in
the
buildin'
Got
bitches
from
wall
to
wall,
hoes
hangin'
from
the
ceilin'
Young
Money,
we
'bout
to
kill
'em,
I
promise
I'll
make
a
million
And
if
they
didn't
have
no
hands
I'll
bet
'em
bitches
gon'
feel
'em
I'm
talkin'
money
and
power,
you
getting'
money?
I
doubt
it
Fresher
than
baby
powder
with
your
bitch
in
the
shower
That
pussy
I'ma
devour,
I
beat
it
up
'til
it's
sour
No
need
for
you
to
even
trip,
bitch,
I'll
be
done
in
an
hour,
let's
go
They
say
the
blacker
the
berry,
the
redder
the
cherry
I
say
the
sweeter
it
is
ya
dig
bury
Then
the
bullshit
varies
and
it
got
me
wary
Hustlin'
is
so
necessary
with
no
avisaries
But
it
ain't
no
love
like
a
calendar
with
no
February
I'ma
need
four
secretaries
and
4 Bloody
Mary's
I'ma
go
eat
me
sum
pussy
and
choke
up
the
cherry,
I'm
gone
Yeah,
fully
loaded
with
it,
to
the
ceilin'
with
it
More
money
than
ya
ever
seen
nigga,
aight,
Drizzy
Drake
Kill
the
game,
no
one
recovers
the
murder
weapon
Young
angel,
if
you
hate
me
tell
me,
burn
in
heaven
How'd
you
sleep
on
me,
the
highest
earning
freshmen
Like
ya
third
infection,
I
hope
you
learned
ya
lesson
Yeah,
I
spit
raw
but
I
prefer
protection
I
own
a
heart
and
a
mind
and
a
shirt
she
slept
in
Bitch,
I
got
the
answer
and
still
ain't
heard
the
question
I
shut
ya
club
down,
please
reserve
my
section
Fuck
a
confrontation,
they
ain't
no
cakin'
it
And
I'm
cakin'
bitch
so
tell
me
why
I
take
a
break
from
it
The
mother
of
your
child
always
tell
you
I'm
her
favorite
She
call
me
her
baby,
not
the
one
she
was
in
labor
with
She
say,
"Oh,
you
taste
good",
I
say,
"Oh,
just
savor
it"
She
know
that
she
love
a
nigga,
I
be
on
that
major
shit
'Cause
I
get
paid
to
stand
and
I
get
paid
to
sit
So
I
don't
walk
around
with
money,
baby
girl,
I'm
made
of
it
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.