Midle Man/ Mr Mister – B.o.B – letras

[Intro]30 you a fool for this one[Bridge]Nice than a motherfuckerThan a motherfuckerThese days, niggas be polite than a motherfuckerNice than a motherfuckerSmile in your face, I’m nice than a motherfuckerSoon as they thought I fell off, niggas’ true colors shine bright than a motherfuckerBright than a motherfuckerThey hate me ’til they meet me, then they hype than a motherfuckerHype than a motherfuckerThat’s cool, we was never cool anyway, huh, yeahThat’s cool, we was never cool anywayIce cube on the pinkie and the middle fingerLookin’ like we won the Super Bowl anyway[Verse 1]Eeh, eeh, fuck what you sayin’ to me?You was just on my dick just 5 yesterdaysBackstabber on your resuméYee, yee, cappin’ and you ain’t even got your rent paidI red the text, what that shit say?[Chorus]I guess I got a short attention spanI learned it, get it straight from the source, fuck the middle manHuh, oh, you hating? Don’t be mad, don’t be salty, don’t be bitter, manI learned it, get it straight from the source, fuck the middle manDon’t got a middle man, middle man[Bridge]Nice than a motherfuckerThan a motherfuckerThese days, niggas be polite than a motherfuckerNice than a motherfuckerSmile in your face, I’m nice than a motherfuckerSoon as they thought I fell off, niggas’ true colors shine bright than a motherfuckerBright than a motherfuckerThey hate me ’til they meet me, then they hype than a motherfuckerHype than a motherfuckerThat’s cool, we was never cool anyway, huh, yeahThat’s cool, we was never cool anywayIce cube on the pinkie and the middle fingerLookin’ like we won the Super Bowl anyway[Verse 2]Huh, look, Dj’s say they support but they still phoneyThey don’t play my shit ‘less I got Tip on itThey don’t play your shit ‘less there’s a diss on itDown to die for this shit, bet I live for itFor this momentHad to vent so I hit up the big homieNiggas don’t even buy albumsBut niggas still do anything for a deal, homieAct like this shit don’t apply to you, huhBeen in their game, look at how they do, huhWhy do yes mans start off ever sentenceWith, « Dog, I wouldn’t lie to you »?Swag is so malleable, covered in valuablesI done accomplished, start what I set out to doWhen we off the colors, not insurmountableBankroll unaccountable, down at the phantom blueBitches drinkin’ Rosé like it’s Mountain DewGuess what she’s down to do, roll up a pound or twoBruh, she already jiggin’, ain’t no turnin’ backI can no longer be held accountableWhy you make all that nigga music?All you play is that nigga musicCall it what you wantBut it ain’t an anthem ’til the strippers moving(But it ain’t an anthem ’til the strippers moving)[Chorus]I guess I got a short attention spanI learned it, get it straight from the source, fuck the middle manHuh, oh, you hating? Don’t be mad, don’t be salty, don’t be bitter, manI learned it, get it straight from the source, fuck the middle manDon’t got a middle man, middle manPart 2: Mr. Mister[Intro]I just put in work, she call me MisterYeah, hey Mister[Verse 1]Mr. Fourth Quarter, Mr. Make-It-HappenMr. Clean, what’s the addy? Mr. I-Keep-Your-Bitch-HappyMr. Cool, damn, that Mister cool, damn that Ice CubeMr. Cow, Mr. Chow, Mr. Come-And-Get-Your-FoodMr. Bruce Leeroy when they come throughMr. Rude, Mr. Cutting School, finna bust a moveMr. T, Mr. Act-A-Fool, Mr. Break-The-RulesMr. Told-You-I’d-Be-There-At-12-And-Ain’t-Get-There-‘Til-2Mr. Thought-I-Was-Gon’-Take-Her-Home-But-Left-Her-In-The-RoomMr. Screws, Mr. Take-It-Off-Now-Bitch-Get-In-The-PoolMr. Already-Made-It, you can’t come aroundMr. Quiet, shh, bitch, don’t make a sound, yeah[Chorus]I just put in work, she call me Mister (hey Mister)Get it by the ground, call it TwistaI’m so lazy, tell my hoe to get the pictureLook, I’m straight up, she a margarita mixerMister, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahI’m Mister, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahI ain’t never miss her, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahMister, that Mister, Bobby Bands[Verse 2]Mr. Long, Mr. Get-Her-Wrong, Mr. Sing-A-SongHear the bong, Mr. Chichi Chong, Mr. In-My-ZoneMr. 2pac Herringbone, on my collarboneHeat it on, Mr. , Mr. Got-It-Going-OnMaster dome, black Power Ranger, I do not belongMr. Outside-Of-The-Norm, hieroglyphic uniformMr. Count-The-Rope, Mr. Fried-Rice-With-The-PrawnsMr. I-Mastered-The-Style, I’m just working on my formMr. Solo Dolo, no, this ain’t no ride alongMr. Me-And-Basic-People-Somehow-Just-Don’t-Get-AlongI just brought a couple negros with me, please don’t be alarmedMr. I-Guess-I-Overslept-And-Slept-Through-My-AlarmMr. Rush, be rich, hit me up, I’m just waking upIn the clutch, come through with the clutch, try me, you can touchNever blink, never lose no sleep, niggas huff and puffClaim they running up, who the fuck? And we see such and suchI’m not you, I done paid my dues, I do this shit dailyMr. , Mr. Lituation, Mr. Fuck-You-Pay-MeMr. I-Might-Be-Here-Now, now I’m out in VegasMr. If-You-Ain’t-With-The-Movement-Ain’t-No-Conversation, preacher[Chorus]I just put in work, she call me Mister (hey Mister)Get it by the ground, call it TwistaI’m so lazy, tell my hoe to get the pictureLook, I’m straight up, she a margarita mixerMister, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahI’m Mister, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahI ain’t never miss her, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahMister, Bobby Bands