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]