[Chorus:]
Alot of rap niggas be trynna play hard.
I was tought to only reach for the hand of your gun.
So when I lift the shirt thats the end of discussion.
Click Clack mothafuckaz, I ain't trynna hear that.
[Verse 1:]
They call me Nicholas, style defined as ridiculous.
I beg your pardon, meet me at the garden
#1 draft, I'm New York's pick & I don't lose like them dudes on the New York knicks... (check
it)
I'm over seas rockin hella capris, in the west Indies eatin delicacies... I tell 'em.
They want Cain like erica, please.
Brotha, your money young like government cheese
These broke rappers always rappin' bout a pink truck, I'm only happy when I hopin out da brinks
truck.
And I don't need a 16, I got a sentence... I goes on a fucka like an entrance.
These old bitches betta change they dentures, when I get in the game, dey gonna play the benches.
Fuck your friendship, pay attention.
Bitch get at me, I'ma pay my henchmen.
[Chorus:]
Alot of rap niggas be trynna play hard.
I was taught only reach for the hand of your gun.
So when I lift the shirt that's the end of discussion.
Click Clack mothafuckaz, I ain't trynna hear nothin.
[Verse 2:]
They call me Maraj.
Fuck u & fuck your squad.
Head bitch in charge, I ain't talkin bout the tod.
I'm on the other line & I ain't talkin bout call waitin.
I'm VIP lil mama I jus walk straight in.
Lil Dolce & Gabanna got this bul hatin, thats I pop up in da porch with da top vacant.
Mami stop fakin, talkin bout what u got. You ain't got nothin & your not caking.
You're not my taste, get outta my face. I play the top like eight friends on your myspace.
Stay in a child's place... Check the timin.
I rock bitches like they throwin up the diamond. (ITS THE ROCK)
You on a flight, I be bakin on islands.
Mami, your accent sound faker than Dylan.
MURDER THEM, MURDER THEM.
Fuck a competition, already murder them.
[Chorus:]
Alot of rap niggas be trynna play hard
I was taught only reach for the hand of your gun.
When I lift the shirt thats the end of discussion.
Click Clack mothafuckaz, I ain't trynna hear nothin'.
[Verse 3:]
They call me Nicki M., hard to find me in a sticky gin,
I play the club, with a thug & some pretty friends.
And if they ain't got the gat, they got the knife on.
You're too whack to get up on one of y song.
You gotta deal, cause u was givin up da coochie prolly, but I'll arrange one hit like oochie
wallie.
And you'll be gone to November like Wyclef, I hold weight & I ain't talkin' bout Biceps.
I rep Queens like the crown, when I'm in the town, ask Yung Joc... it's goin down.
Kisses to my bitches and my niggas, getta pound.
June, turn me up... mic check... [? ]
Bitches don't kno da half, like dey flucked at math, give a fuck about a bitch & da clique she
with
Unless u doin dem numbaz like arithmetic, young nic.holla bac & turn up my shyt
[Chorus:]
Alot of rap niggas be trynna paly hard
I was taught only reach for the hand of your gun.
When I lift da shirt dats da end of discussion
Click Clcak mutha fuckaz, I ain't trynna hear nuthin