Young Money Hospital

Young Money Hospital, I am so sick
Kill you and your dogs, you can call me Mike Vick
I’mma get get silly, sick sick with it
Foolish like Shawty Lo, and I’mma get get it
Stick shift kitted, Maserati orange
Got my top let back with the Kamikaze doors
Hoes all over me, crazy no controlin' me
I hop up in them draws and put that dick up in her ovaries
Gudda bitch you know it’s me, I spit cooked coke
So when I rap it comes out like a quarter key
Conduct disorderly, .44 bulldogs barkin' start sparkin'
And rip out your arteries
Uhh Umm, fresh off the Carter 3
Money ain’t a thing mothafucker it’s the only thing
Ha ha, bitch don’t bother me
My car so big, the license plate says «pardon me»
Yeah, Louie V lokes on
And my Jewelry just singin' like a slow song
Young Moola bitch
You fuckin' with some soldiers, «hoorah» bitch
Hollygrove gangsta, mixtape mangler
Wheels on the coupe, lips bigger than Tapanga’s
Two middle fingers, you don’t know my anger
Better call the rangers, but you gon need the angels
No homo I got money out the anus
And I got the girls screamin' «please Lil Wayne us»
Let me explain this
I’m like Travis Barker I got stripes, I’m strapped and I’m Famous
I tell myself you ought to be shameless
I pop a pill, and now I feel painless
And I’mma shoot that if I aim this
And I ain’t talkin' bout no motherfuckin' sidekick
Like, I fuck that other side bitch
East-side I ride around, you know who you ride with
Then I’m at the hospital, if you survive it
Then I’m at your funeral just to see ya body
Pussy nigga I’m a hitman
And when it come to pussy nigga I’m a clit man
Haha shit man, I got your girl on my arm like a wrist band
And anything I do my clique can
They can lean on me like a kick stand
I’mma take us to the top
And know its not a rumor, it’s the rock