Showtime lyrics

[Intro]
(Yo Pi'erre, you wanna come out here?)

[Verse 1]
Not a fan of makin' new friends, n*gga
Got a big grip on my F&N, n*gga (Grip)
Got a briefcase full of blue pills, n*gga (Blue)
Got a briefcase full of ice, [?] chills, n*gga
Got a shooter and he [?] bullets, not skills, n*gga
Your b*tch know that you a lie, that's for real, n*gga (woo)
Uncle flipped it, was spendin' money on b*tches (woo)
Especially, the ones who want me for my rich ass
I can see they want me dead, no stitches
That's why a keep the [?] in my [?]

[Chorus]
Showtime, Showtime (Hm, hm, hm, hm)
Showtime, Showtime (Hm, yeah, bee, ice)
[?]
Bad b*tch, pus*y bald head, call it [?]

[Verse 2]
Get the sh*t together, homie, you can do it
Makin' millions [?], man, my money [?]
I could book a [?], n*gga, ain't nun' to it
And the real question is, n*gga, [?] (No)
[?]
[?]
I've been in a different field 'cause that sh*t is lucrative
I want money like George Lucas, not Frank Lucas (Facts)
I hang 'round with some real slimes like a nosebleeds
f*ckin' on a group of bad b*tches, look like brown sugar (Bee)
And I walk around head high 'cause I'm a home wrecker
I be f*ckin' n*ggas wife mouths 'cause i'm a dumb getter (Go)
Show me that b*tch, i'll go get her (Go)
Never ever hit a b*tch, [?], i'm a hoe hitter
Hit her from the back [?] (Bee)
[?] no n*gga givin' off hate, 'less it was a sack tacker (Go)
Rich b*tch from Miami said her great grandaddy was a yacht maker
And he used to have a yacht master, hmm, f*ck with it (sh*t, go)
Can't take it to the grave, so I walk around like I'm stuck with it (Guap)
I don't give a f*ck 'bout nun of that that you talkin' 'bout (Facts)
My n*gga strip his ass clean, make him walk it out
On God
Bee, uh