I Don’t Like the Look of It lyrics

[Intro]
I don't like the look of it

[Verse 1: Gudda Gudda]
Okay, I'm sippin' on the syrup, got a n*gga movin' slow
I'm all about the money, what the f*ck you think I do it for?
b*tch, don't act like you don't know, I'm killin' all these rap n*ggas
Custom made caskets for yo' motherf*ckin' funeral
Keep the women with me, sh*t, I gotta keep like two or more
Party everyday, like we won the f*ckin' Super Bowl
Chillin' with my n*gga Mack, he keep b*tches handy
White girl on the table, let 'em sniff the nose candy
When I'm walkin' by, the women sayin', "Who is that n*gga?"
I replied, "Hi, I am Gudda Gudda, that n*gga!"
I was raised in the home of the cap splitters
Whip on 24's, watch it crawl like a caterpillar
I come with a toy, boy, like a Happy Meal
And you's a motherf*ckin' duck, Daffy-dil
I'm from the school of hard knocks where we scrap and kill
Pick the knife or gun or you can get the package deal
I'm hot, n*gga, burnin' everything around me
I was lost for a minute, took a while, but I found me (Gudda)
The streets say I'm king but the game'll never crown me (Gudda)
Realest n*gga doin' it, just ask them n*ggas 'round me (Gudda)
So you can't size me up or try to clown a—
Shark in the water, jump in and I'ma drown you
New Orleans n*gga, gun out, I'ma down you
Put n*ggas to sleep like a muh'f*ckin' downer (Gudda)
I'm a Great White, you's a flounder
Fish and a b*tch, I tuna eveything around you
U-Haul Gudda, movin' everything around you (Yeah)
It's Young Money, b*tch! At the top is where they found us, n*gga
[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Uh, goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em
Silence on the gun, watch a n*gga mute 'em
The coach in the booth, call me Jon Gruden
School these n*ggas, they all my students
All jokes aside, I ain't playin' with ya
The weed broke down like a transmission
The chopper spin him 'round, like a ballerina
b*tch, I'm still spittin' like I ate a jalape-na
I'm from uptown, my b*tch from Argentina
My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena
Stunt so hard, it's all y'all fault
And when it come to beef, give me A1 Sauce
I ain't worryin' 'bout sh*t, everything paid out
You could catch me courtside in Dwayne Wade house
With a high, yellow, thick b*tch with her legs out
Cash Money president, but we in a red house
Who the f*ck want it? Make my f*ckin' day
I blow your candles out, now, n*gga, cut the cake
I gotta eat, b*tch! Like a runaway
Y'all n*ggas ain't eatin', stomach ache
Okay, all these b*tches and n*ggas still hatin'
I used to be ballin', but now I'm Bill Gate-in'
f*ckin' with my iPhone, bumpin' Illmatic
I'm on the road to riches, there's just a lil' traffic
Hair still platted, thuggin' is a habit
Keep my guitar, hip hop Lenny Kravitz
Bunch of bad b*tches and I f*ck 'em like rabbits
Dope di*k Weezy, ya girlfriend an addict, uh