Clique

[Intro: James Fauntleroy & Big Sean] What of the dollar you murdered for? Is that the one fighting for your soul? Or your brother's the one that you're running from? But if you got money, fuck it, 'cause I want some B-I-G Who fuckin' with me? Oh, God! Woah [Chorus: Big Sean] Okay, ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my muhfuckin' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad bitches, man, they want the— They want the—, they want the— (B-I-G, oh God) Go [Verse 1: Big Sean] I tell a bad bitch do whatever I say (Yup) My block behind me like I'm coming out the driveway (Swerve) It's grind day, from Friday to next Friday (Woah) I been up straight for nine days, I need a spa day (Spa day) (Yup) She try and gimme that poon-tang I might let my crew bang. My crew deeper than Wu-Tang (Woah) I'm rollin' with— Ha! Fuck I'm saying? Girl, you know my crew name You know 2 Chainz (Yeah). Skrrt! I'm pullin' up in that Bruce Wayne But I'm the fuckin' villain, man, they kneelin' when I'm walking in the buildin' Freaky women I be feelin' from the bank accounts I'm fillin' What a feelin'! Ah man, they gotta be Young player from the D that's killing everything that he see for the dough [Chorus: Big Sean] Okay, ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique Clique, clique (On God!), clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my ma'fuckin' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad bitches, man, they want the— They want the—, they want the— (Click clack, stick 'em up) Go [Verse 2: JAY-Z] Yeah, I'm talkin' 'Ye (Clique). Yeah, I'm talkin' Rih' (Clique) Yeah, I'm talkin' B (Clique). Nigga, I'm talkin' me Yeah, I'm talkin' bossy. I ain't talkin' Kelis Your money too short, you can't be talkin' to me Yeah, I'm talkin' LeBron, we ball in our family tree G.O.O.D. Music drug-dealing cousin, ain't nothin' fuckin' with we. Me Turn that sixty-two to one-twenty-five, one-twenty-five to a two-fifty Two-fifty to a half a—, man, ain't nothin' nobody can do with me Now, who with me? ¡Vámonos! Call me Hov or Jefe Translation: I'm the shit. 'Least, that what my neck say 'Least, that what my check say, lost my homie for a decade Nigga down for like twelve years, ain't hug his son since the second grade Uh! He never told Who he gon' tell? We top of the totem pole It's the Dream Team meets the Supreme Team And all our eyes green, it only means one thing: You ain't fuckin' with the clique [Chorus: Big Sean] Okay, ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'fuckin' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad bitches, man, they want the— They want the—, they want the— [Verse 3: Kanye West] Break records at Louis, ate breakfast at Gucci My girl a superstar all from a home movie Bow on our arrival, the un-American idols What niggas did in Paris got 'em hangin' off the Eiffel Yeah, I'm talkin' business. We talkin' CIA I'm talkin' George Tenet, I seen him the other day He asked me about my Maybach, think he had the same Except mine tinted and his might have been rented You know white people get money, don't spend it Or maybe, they get money, buy a business I rather buy eighty gold chains and go ign'ant I know Spike Lee gon' kill me, but let me finish Blame it on the pigment. We livin' no limits Them gold Master P ceilings was just a figment Of our imagination. MTV cribs Now, I'm lookin' at a crib right next to where TC lives That's Tom Cruise. Whatever she accuse He wasn't really drunk, he just had a frew brews Pass the refreshments, a cool, cool beverage Everything I do need a news crew's presence Speedboat swerve, homie, watch out for the waves I'm way too Black to burn from sunrays So I just meditate at the home in Pompeii About how I could build a new Rome in one day Every time I'm in Vegas, they screamin' like he's Elvis But I just wanna design hotels and nail it Shit is real, got me feelin' Israelian Like Bar Refaeli, or Gisele—no, that's Brazilian Went through deep depression when my mama passed Suicide, what kinda talk is that? But I been talkin' to God for so long That if you look at my life, I guess He talkin' back. Fuckin' with my clique [Outro: Big Sean] Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'fuckin' clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique And all these bad bitches, man, they want the— They want the— they want the— Go [Produced by Kanye West, Hit-Boy, Anthony Kilhoffer, and Noah Goldstein]