What I Do

[Intro] Uh, you know We do this shit We don't need no mothafuckin' compliments, man Nigga get his ass shot, that shit we supposed to do cause we some real niggas You follow me? Beatin' niggas ass, fuckin' niggas hoes, ridin' rims That's shit we supposed to do Cause we some mothafuckin' real niggas She a bad bitch, she supposed to fuck with some real niggas [Chorus: Juvenile] I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) And all my bad bitches, they'll do me I don't ask them if it's love cause they show me And all my real niggas ride for me If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly [Verse 1: Waka Flocka Flame] All the real niggas, they fuckin' with me Bad bitches, they fuckin' with me In the VIP, with my strap on me Blowin' gas, sippin' this cup of Remy My shoes Fendi, my jeans (?) My shirt Fendi, my buckle Fendi She ain't no fun, crew can't hit her I fuck and pass 'em, ain't cuffing any Believe it or not, no fucking really Hood nigga driving this fuckin' Bentley Don't play no games with these lame niggas Stomp a nigga out if he scuff my tennys Every nigga round me 100 Leave a hunnid racks, they won't touch a penny Bands on me, no twenties, fifties Just hundreds, pockets they stuffed with centuries They say Flocka, he a shooter Damn right, that's what I'm good at nigga You can try me if you want to Get your shit pushed back, nigga Half a ticket on my neck like a dope boy Lookin' like I cooked that, nigga I’m a real jack boy Caught a nigga slippin' and I took that, nigga [Chorus: Juvenile] I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) And all my bad bitches, they'll do me I don't ask them if it's love cause they show me And all my real niggas ride for me If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly [Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame] Check the lane, I'm flexin' Real niggas only in my section Ferragamo my belt buckle Hand cuffs on me, no arresting FN on my waist line In case a fuck nigga wanna test me Elm Street, I'm Piru Real right nigga, no leftie Ask around town, niggas know Flocka I'm a real street nigga, name heavy In the bushes, that chopper nigga Dressed in all black like Wesley I'm a rich nigga, for some red bottoms She'll do anything, she bless me Have a threesome with two bad bitches I fucked her and her bestie Only smoke gas, no reggie If it ain't loud, don't pass it Real street nigga with a bank account 200k in my matress Won't ever change, always stay the same Only thing that change is my address With my status, can’t fuck with basic bitches Can’t fuck with her if she average Squad [Chorus: Juvenile] I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) I'm good at what I do (good at what I do) And all my bad bitches, they'll do me I don't ask them if it's love cause they show me And all my real niggas ride for me If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly