Mr. West Money The Power lyrics

[Verse 1]
Today Jimmy Hendrix is motivation
I guess its time for me to put them 8082;s in
Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating
And Sak Pase to all my f-cking Haitians
Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in
Im in the same car that Ricky Rozay in
Tell Satan that its a celebration
So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
Probably the one of us that really needs to wear his vest
And Im just shooting my niggas some subliminals
Cuz he got all the bitches and I be with the criminals
Beat sound like some crazy shit that Tim would do
Now when you see me, Im the brown Eminem to you
Show you what Im finna do, but you dont know its me though
Magic when I shoot, get to boxing like Hedo
Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas
Hit your block in the Caprice and just circle you niggas
Know what I mean? Think you pheens how Im serving you niggas
Know what I mean? Think Im beans how Im serving you niggas
And it aint rice and beans when Im serving you niggas
Punk you in front of your crew, Steve Urkel you niggas
Putting bull shit out, I hope it works for you niggas
And when it dont, come and see me, I got that work for you niggas

[Hook X2]
Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!)
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?

[Verse 2]
He had a Rolls, I had a Rolls too
Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do
Burn rubber, swear to God they gon love ya
Like rookie cops, cant wait to be undercovers
Im 653;, nigga basketball size
You act like I cant f-ck one of them basketball wives
I be a basketball Game, with my basketball dame
Feeling like, Hov, call back, Im watching basketball dang
Damn, but I aint talking bout dames
I aint talking bout Hov, Im just talking bout Game
Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game
Jesus Shuttlesworth, yeah the boy got range-s
In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot
They way they gossiping hip-hop should be a barber shop
Getting cash money baby, why you tryna baller block?
Mad chick, hers, man somebody gotta call the shots

[Hook]

[Bridge]
I guess its me yall, the highest on the see saw
Get so much money, why the f-ck would I wann be yall?
Shit, I be everywhere, but I dont ever see yall
So for the next 12 songs, Imma fucking R.I.P. yall

[Verse 3]
Sometimes I hear anger talking, asking how Im feeling
Im just happy to be alive, Lord willing
Four albums later, two more children
Feeling like Ye, Mr. West is in the building
What happened to the competition? Nigga I killed em
Cant drink Crystal, the nigga Hov chilled em
Im on this patent rhyme like I know them niggas
Them haters say I fell off? Im bout to show them niggas
Drake and J. Cole them niggas
I sold nine mill, made nine mill, and kept it hood nigga
Just like Drake told a nigga
I made it rain in hundreds like I was Big Meech
I made it rain in hundreds when I was with Meech
Went from a Cutlass with the old front end
To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping
Now Imma take you back to where I got jumped in
West side Compton, just east of the one ten

[Hook Number 2]
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that Im bout to f-ck your girl for bout an hour
Look around the club, uh, all I see is cowards
Mad cuz I got respect, the money, and the power
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that Im bout to f-ck your girl for bout an hour
Look around the club and all I see is cowards
Mad cuz I got respect, the money, and all the power

[Verse 4]
No one man should have.. Ye said that
Cant knock the Naw, Jay said that
You can thank me Naw, Drake said that
Mind playing tricks on me Scarface said that
But Im about to roll this paper plane
Hit the barber shop, get cut before this Laker game
Niggas hate The Game, sometimes I hate the fame
They hate my bitch, they hate my chain
Im so hood, I might fly to New York and just take the train
On some John Travolta shit, just take the train
So if you in New York at two oclock, dont take the train
I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine
I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame
Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came
Four albums, twelve cars, but the flow stay the same
Every nigga I dap turn blood, its like Im made of flames
Dipping this red flag, like the one I gave to Wayne

[Hook Number 2]

[Verse 5]
Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run
Soon as the Game over, they back stripping for ones
Had your bitch all in my crib, stripping for fun
Getting head, thinking bout cars when I strip em for fun
Walk in my closet, throw on my Js, pick up my gun
Spin the block with some some shit that spit quicker than Pun
I respect two East Coast niggas, Biggie was one
If he was living, hed say that no one is sicker then son, uh
Young gun, bar none, the tightest where Im from
Roll some much kush, got the leaves sticking to my thumb
As I break it down , bring that six tray around
Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now
Treat beef like haircuts, gotta fade it down
Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby
How can niggas hate on me? cuz I get Cash Money
Six bricks in the Aston Martin, thats fast money

[Hook Number 2]


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