Lyrics to What I Look Like
Now what I look like
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice"
New G63, cut the roof not the top back
We shootin' 223's at the roof, knock his top back
I'm in another league, when I speak you can't talk back
'Cause I talk big racks and I tote big straps
And I can't snort lines because I sold crack
And I don't do lines, I sleep through these bags
Don't sneak diss online, 'cause I still squeeze .9's
Just pull a flatline and push your shit back
Now what I look like
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight (Yeah, yeah)
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice" (Yeah, yeah, [?], baby, let's get it)
Rippin' and flippin' that thing, I ship it off, wrap a book tight (Yeah)
Niggas been switchin' the smack, I still got crack, I got good white (Yeah)
Chicken with twenty-eight racks, I'm takin' it back if it cook right (Yeah-yeah)
Hundred and eight-four pounds, bitch, I'm the real skinny Suge Knight (Woo)
Keep 'em package in the check-in baggage, that's one the rabbit holes (Yeah)
Nigga ran off, had to toss his ass in the rabbit hole (Yeah)
I just copped the Buckhead Copton for my Atlanta hoe (Bitch)
I'm gettin' sloppy top with the .7 in automatic mode
I pray Lord, Allah, got forgiveness for killers (Yeah)
We pray when we lost but forget when we winnin' (Yeah)
Courthouse, penitentiary, was not my intention
I front door my front seats, in front of my engine, yeah
Sports cars off the work, call 'em work cars (Yeah)
Your hoe don't like a like a hitta blow, I let the vert 'cause (Yeah)
For Christmas I got obituaries for your squad
I put that shit on DVL 'cause I don't swear to God, yeah
And what the fuck I look like
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice"
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice"
New G63, cut the roof not the top back
We shootin' 223's at the roof, knock his top back
I'm in another league, when I speak you can't talk back
'Cause I talk big racks and I tote big straps
And I can't snort lines because I sold crack
And I don't do lines, I sleep through these bags
Don't sneak diss online, 'cause I still squeeze .9's
Just pull a flatline and push your shit back
Now what I look like
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight (Yeah, yeah)
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice" (Yeah, yeah, [?], baby, let's get it)
Rippin' and flippin' that thing, I ship it off, wrap a book tight (Yeah)
Niggas been switchin' the smack, I still got crack, I got good white (Yeah)
Chicken with twenty-eight racks, I'm takin' it back if it cook right (Yeah-yeah)
Hundred and eight-four pounds, bitch, I'm the real skinny Suge Knight (Woo)
Keep 'em package in the check-in baggage, that's one the rabbit holes (Yeah)
Nigga ran off, had to toss his ass in the rabbit hole (Yeah)
I just copped the Buckhead Copton for my Atlanta hoe (Bitch)
I'm gettin' sloppy top with the .7 in automatic mode
I pray Lord, Allah, got forgiveness for killers (Yeah)
We pray when we lost but forget when we winnin' (Yeah)
Courthouse, penitentiary, was not my intention
I front door my front seats, in front of my engine, yeah
Sports cars off the work, call 'em work cars (Yeah)
Your hoe don't like a like a hitta blow, I let the vert 'cause (Yeah)
For Christmas I got obituaries for your squad
I put that shit on DVL 'cause I don't swear to God, yeah
And what the fuck I look like
And if it ain't money, I don't look right
Corvettes and private jets, I don't book flights
Gamble for the money but, I don't shoot dice
Shoot just like dice, I shoot once not twice
Shoot so precise but I still punch, fight
Mr. Maxo Tookie, yeah the Crip blue, Suge Knight
Every time they see me they like, "Ooh, that's new ice"
