Good Nigger Sticker – B.o.B – letras

Oh BobbyOh BobbyOh God, oh BobbyThese are the chronicles of a black magicianleft the rap businessMade some plaques with an unthreatening a black imageBut that’s finished, you niggas still ass kissingcatfishingBefore I was rap fishingI had visions of mostly millions and packed buildingsEverybody’s depressed, no happinessIt’s sad when you find out the world is trash, inn’it?(Wa-wait ’till they discover its flat)If I ever made me a movie and casted itYou wouldn’t have to be at this functionA black family, a single and sada sell crack to act in itThe crooked enslave you, you singing prayersLike Sky Daddy blessing black peoplewith good behaviour like »You’re a good nigga (yeah) , you’re a good nigga (yeah)here’s a gold sticker »And I swear it’s folks going through my housewhen they know I ain’t homeIt be your own people, you don’t know what I’m onChopped it up with shawty slim like nigga pick up the phoneStayed up ’till 5am just to finish this songYou ain’t gotta say « Let’s get it », bitch I got itI ain’t gotta dumb it down, they just gotta catch upI don’t need boy scout, bad bitch, I’m ain’t a tiger cubFuck you and your entire clubFuck you, bitch, I’m fired upI’m the whole entire plugThe way I drive fuck my tires upGame over, nigga, time’s upMe and my bitch, fuck your bitch, ayyYou ain’t know she was with the shit, ayyYeah, we some thots, no kids, ayyWoah, I’m high as fuck, just a sip, ayyBobby Ray Bandz, I’m the shit, ayyFake niggas keep jumping shipHow good does good get?There’s more to life than being hood richYou ain’t on what I’m onYou ain’t on what I’m onYou ain’t on what I’m onChopped it up with shawty slim, nigga pick up the phoneChopped it up with big rich, nigga pick up the phoneChopped it up with Tj, nigga pick up the phoneChopped it up with B-Side, lived the real street lifeChopped it up with Playboy Tre, pick up the phoneChopped it up with LondonChopped it up with HaviChopped it up with JacquesChopped it with the moneyChopped it up with T. I. PChopped it up with RockyChopped it up with Tech N9ne, nigga, who gon’ stop me?Niggas know I’m mobbin’Niggas know I’m not playin’What’s her name, what’s her name? Could it be Roxxanne?Niggas know I’m the bomb, woah, kemosabeRacist white people look at me like Bin LadenHow many crisis actors I hear rapping today?How many dick appointments can she make in a day?Young guys think they’re coldest can bebut even triple Ogs get old in the kneesAlways knew niggas was gon’ wake upAin’t shit to worry ’boutif you ain’t trying to opress usThe whole hotep clubThe whole no flex clubBut if you had the money, buy a Rolex club (hotel parade)Gotta be broke, to be woke, no check club (ho hey)No sex, no neck (ho, hotel parade)No neck, no sex, no sex (ho hey ho)How much clout? How much clout?How much clout make that ass come out?How much clout make them titties come out?How much clout? How much clout?How much clout make you fakers take a bow? Game over