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Ham Music

Ham Music Lyrics Meek Mill

They ain’t fucking with me, New Orleans N.O
Old school bitch I let her blow me like nintendo
Black panamera, me and Mac are getting lit though
Switching lanes in that thang 5 percent up on the window
I got 20 in my pocket, 30 on wrist, 50 on my neck keep it 100 in this bitch
Hey listen we don’t do no talking, I’m just running up in your shit
And I was never in the walking, I’m just running up in your pick
I say my swagger on infinity, money it ain't a limit
Real nigga every day, start and to the finish
You should hear this roar when I’m starting up the engine
Sounding like a motherfucker lion barking all up in it
Make a dollar every second, thousands on the hour
20 everyday, I’m getting money in the power
I was told never let the youngins get the powder
But now these niggas slipping like they're fucking in the shower
Pause
I really do this, I’m 6'2 and with Ricky Ross
I’m getting to it, you niggas loosing shit, I’m a boss
Yeah I took a loss, I was out in vegas
Me and Gucci Poochy, shooting at the tables
When I was broke, I used to have a dream
Before I had a dream best believe I had them fiends
Steady blowing up my celly, trying to get it any means
My nigga swoochy in the kitchen working up the triple-beams
Breaking ounces off the birdie, money it was dirty
And hammers they was filthy cause niggas was trying to kill me
And that’s word to Osama though
Fuck a bitch and vamonos
Niggas and they diss raps, they dont want no drama though
Leaning off the prometh, sipping Aunt Jemima though
Rollie all bussed down, call that perfect timing though
Tell my jeweler freeze me, just to change the climate ho
Bottom of the mountain and Meek Milly got the climbing though

Your chick my chick, my chick your chick
My swag fly shit, your swag, norbit
Nigga you’re a weirdo, no match forfeit
All these fucking bricks i’m thinking we gonn need a forklift
Coolest on your stereo, I don’t think they hear me though
Catch me in the hood, I be around just like the marry-go
Used to sell them little O's I ain’t talking cheerios
I’m talking about them golden grahams and I don’t eat no cereal
Murder on your record label nigga I’m a serial
Killer plus I’m realer this is scarier than thriller
In the villa counting trilla, with shorty she vanilla
As far as work, I make that fucking butter fly like caterpillars
And my flow be on some other shit
Hotter than an oven get
I just got his girl's number, he gon' need another bitch
Maker her fuck my other bitch, then put her on a punishment
She said she in love with me and she dont know my government
Shorty tripping, where your luggage at
Broke niggas never seen me cause I'm where the money at
All I know is hustle hard, like a got a hundred pack
A nigga get my jewels, I'mma kill him, and I don't want them back
Wear them to your funeral, be stunting while they're viewing you
Momma wouldn't notice, she's like what the hell they do to you
Clip full of hollow heads, make me put a few in you
Yeah nigga, I will ruin you

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