Текст песни B.o.B feat Playboy Tre feat Meek Mill - Epic

[Verse 1 - B.o.B]
You know who it is without a doubt of hesitation
If money talks I got my masters in communication
But you can’t hold a conversation
Probably find me burning something good you can call that smoking aces
Compliment the chef in the lab making greatness
Ain’t a thing changed but the number on the statement
NBA resume, baller’s my occupation
Kush so loud I can’t hear what was you saying
Praise yo solo that the freaks in the backseat
Get a thrill off the alpine when it vibrate they ass cheeks
I’m Bobby Ray baby an all American athlete
I run and leap and jump and like a track meet
Yeah that ought to do it
Give it that Carl Lewis
I got the magic baby call me George Lucas
I’m so prolific but my flow’s so foolish
These n*ggas making moves my n*ggas making movies wait

[Verse 2 - Playboy Tre]
Wild like a crazy mic
Clean like a baby wipe
Y’all just a momma’s boy sleeping with a baby light
My ex say I’m a d*ck cause my mind frame’s cocky
Up in Beninhan’, drunk, drinking all the sake
Damn right I want a double fried rice
I’m getting bread I put my d*ck up in your face
Your face’ll look like Stewie's head
Girls call me Tre day
I’m looking for pay day
My squad’s got more bottle poppin’ n*ggas than the AA
Liquor and wheelbarrow, foolish as Will Ferrell
But I ain’t got a step brother, I f*ck your step mother
I cussed cause I like it b*tch
F*ck hoe motherf*cker
You mad cause I’m balling, life is a motherf*cker
Your son is a leprechaun, so hater live life a little
New shit dropping soon “Patron & Instrumental”
Til' then stay tuned, freak, and thanks for the hot gin
It’s Tre, my flow won’t quit till I say it ends

[Verse 3 - B.o.B]
Eastside on my arm, 3 stripes on my sneakers
Don’t roll with pussy n*ggas, we call them vaginas
That’s why your girl choosing dawg, pray I never meet her
I tap her on the head and tell her you know the procedure
You just mad with no b*tch cause I’m chilling with your b*tch
She through out your mixtape but she knows my whole disc
My flow’s sick, I’m a poet, Edgar Allan Poe shit
Haters be getting defensive like 4th down and show blitz
But I don’t punt it, I run it for a hundred
Ever since I was a young ‘un, been hungry as Paul Bunyon
I’m the shit so fix the plumbing
I’m a beast in the game, Jumanji
And if this ain’t what you call hip-hop it must be bungee jumping
I’m smoking on hydroponic some of you call that chronic
Hennessy in my vomit cause the night before jumpin’
Lil C got that beat bumping so you can hear me coming
And my name’s Bobby Ray, Eastside of the A
Just in case anybody was f*cking b*tch

[Verse 4 - Meek Mill]
Oohh I’m a motherf*cking beast
All my haters rest in peace
I make a hundred on the Monday and go hard the rest of week
Pray on n*ggas like a Sunday
See your artist that’s a feast
I got like 30 in the chalk I let you pussies catch a piece
It was me and old Nelly, in the Scaglietti
Bout to scoop these b*tches cause they say they past ready
Swagger on the finish, I think I’m Andretti
I push it to the limit get ‘em haters gassed heavy
Wait a minute I’m a menace
Shout out to the winners
Jacket boy Louies like a flag before the finish
I’m just getting started and n*ggas at they end
And errbody say I’m hot but I’ve been hot from the beginning
I be with a b*tch that looks like Kim Kardashian
She ain’t on these n*ggas not by purpose but by accident
Because I be laxin’ em, you n*ggas relaxing
And the main reason I’m passing em like Michael Vick
I'm faster than yo quarter back
I bring that order back
Ain’t f*cking with that weed, like where that water at
Like where them purps n*gga
Somebody order that
Caught a couple cases, went to jail but I ain’t going back
Free TIP!