They Point

[Hook: Mr. Bangladesh] (x2)

Every time I stop, hoes like look at him

Every car I drive, niggas want one of them

They pointin', they pointin

They like dammmmmn

They pointin', they pointin

They like dammmmmn

[Verse 1: E-40]

Like Ricky Ross, everyday I'm hustlin'

Gettin' off weight (like who?) Jennifer Hudson

Pack a hammer, Thor

Shooter, score

Slide through batches think I'm hecka rich

Breakin' necks, turnin' heads like the exorcist

Thumbs up like the like button

Eatin' good, no rib touchin'

Runnin' with a bundle, never fumble

Countin' so much bread I got Carpal tunnel

Stock paint (from where?) Maaco

Beige, like a potato

They hate me on the outside, love me in the inside

Suck me in the back seat while I let a friend drive

Half a pound two stacks, half a unit 10-5

I stay out here by Sully so you know a hustler been fly

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Juicy J]

My pockets some'n serious, mansion on a hilly

Main that nigga got more cheese than a philly

Shoelace tied but a nigga still trippin'

I'm Lionel Richie high, I'm dancin' on the ceiling

Never marry a hoes, I just marry checks

That's how you stay on top, missionary sex

Rubba Band Business, know you heard of that

I got the town talkin, know you scurred of that

None less than ten figures, you know what I'm worth

Record sales, show money, not including merch'

Club full of bitches, pocket full of Franks

Blunt full of weed, cup full of drank

Me going raw dog, ain't no way in hell

Before I risk my life it be a cold day in hell

But bitch take it off, here we go show and tell

And I'm fuckin' that pussy like I'm fresh out of jail

[Hook]

[Verse 3: 2 Chainz]

Parallel park while I'm ghost riding

Black diamonds man I'm racial profiling

I'm so fly man I need a co-pilot

So I might let your damn ho drive it

Lil' hair pullin' man I like rough sex

Dropped out, I ain't never passed a drug test

You know my lingo baby let's mingle

So I got a thousand dollars worth of singles

I got racks in the cargo of my camo

Still, still won't give her Nathaniel

Life a gamble so I had to make a bet

These ain't Air Max but I can make a check

They took me out the streets but it's still in me

I been sellin' werk since we had Bill Clinton

I'm the voice of the streets so they still listen

On the back of the milk carton, ceiling missing

[Hook]