Epic lyrics - B.o.B (feat. Playboy Tre & Meek Mill)

[B.o.B:]

You know who it is without a doubt or hesitation

If money talks I got my masters in communications

But you can't hold a conversation

Probably find me burning something good you can call that smoking aces

Compliment the chef in the lab making greatness

Ain't a thing changed but the number on the statement

NBA resume, baller's my occupation

Kush so loud I can't hear what was you saying

Bass go so low that the freaks in the backseat

Get a thrill off the alpine when it vibrate they ass cheeks

I'm Bobby Ray baby an all american athlete

I run and leap and jump in that pussy like a track meet

Yeah that oughta do it

Give it that Carl Lewis, ha

I got the magic baby call me George Lucas

I'm so prolific but the flow's so foolish

These niggas making moves, my niggas making movies, wait

[Playboy Tre:]

Wild like a crazy mic

Clean like a baby wipe

Y'all just a momma boy sleeping with a baby light

My ex say I'm a dick cause my mind frank cocky

Up in Beninhan', drunk as fuck, drinking all the sake

Damn right I want a double fried rice

I'm getting bread I put my dick up in your face

Your face'll look like Stewies head

Girls call me Tre day

I'm looking for pay day

My squad's got more bottle poppin' niggas than the AA

Liquor and wheelbarrow, foolish as Will Ferrell

But I ain't got a step brother, I fuck your step mother

I cussed cause I like it bitch

Fuck hoe mutherfucker

You mad cause I'm balling, life is a mutherfcker

Shawtys and leprichauns so hate or live life a little

New shit dropping soon "Patron & Instrumental"

Til then stay tuned freak, and thanks for the hot gin

It's tre, my flow won't quit til I say it ends

[B.o.B:]

Eastside on my arm, 3 stripes on my sneakers

Don't roll with pussy niggas, we call them vajeenas

That's why your girl choosing dawg, pray I never meet her

I tap her on the head and tell her you know the procedure

You just mad with no bitch cause I'm chilling with your bitch

She threw out your mixtape but she knows my whole disc

My flow's sick, I'm a poet, Edgar Allan Poe shit

Haters be getting defensive like 4th down and show blitz

But I don't punt it, I run it for one hundred

Ever since I was a youngin', been hungry as Paul Bunyon

I'm the shit so fix the plumbing

I'm a beast and the game's Jumanji

And if this ain't what you call hip-hop it must be bungee jumping

I'm smoking on hydroponic some of you call that chronic

Hennessey in my vomit cause the night before was jumpin'

Lil C got that beat bumping so you can hear me coming

And my name's Bobby Ray, Eastside of the A just incase anybody was wondering bitch

[Meek Mill:]

Oohh I'm a matherfucking beast

All my haters rest in peace

I make a hundred on the Monday and go hard the rest of week

Pray on niggas like a Sunday

See your artist that's a feast

I got like 38 inch cock, I let you pussies catch a piece

It was me and old melly? in the Scaglietti

Bout to scoop these bitches cause they say they past ready

Swagger on the finish, I think I'm Andretti

I push it to the limit get 'em haters gassed heavy

Wait a minute I'm a menace

Shout out to the winners

Jacket boy Louies like a flag before the finish?

I'm just getting started and niggas at they end

And errbody say I'm hot but I've been hot from the beginning

I be with a bitch that looks like Kim Kardashian

She ain't on these niggas not by purpose but by accident

Big Chris, I'll be laxing him, you niggas relaxing

And the main reason I'm passing em like Michael Vick I'm faster than yo quarter back

I bring that order back

Ain't fucking with that weed, like where that water at

Like where them purps nigga

Somebody order that

Caught a couple cases, went to jail but I ain't going back

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