Fuck Em Lyrics - T.r.u. Story (no Lie) - 2 Chainz

C-note after c-note, put the remix on my kilo 

Thought I wouldn't make it, now I'm winning - Timothy Tebow 

Fourth quarter, I'm back; fourth quarter, in fact 

Fourth quarter, that sack; Fourth Ward in all black 

I said boss and I meant that; advance, you spent that 

Corvette so clean you'll think Bruce Springsteen rid that 

Cars just like sneakers, just got me ten pair 

Dubai, I been there - but fuck that, we in here 

Roll up and inhale, I live next to Denzel 

Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit real 

IPhone and iPad, Air Max, and my gat 

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks 

All I need is bad hoes, all these niggas gon' rat 

Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they're going back 

All I need is Benzos, squatting on Lorenzos 

Stack my money tenfold, make this my new ten-four 

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Fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming fuck em 

Fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming fuck em 

Fuck all you haters 

Watch me fuck all these bitches 

I got eight different Rollies 

And they all mint condition 

I'm screaming fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming fuck em 

Fuck em, fuck em, I'm screaming fuck em 

I got five different Benzes 

This is my deposition 

I'm screaming, "Fuck every witness" 

Cause bitch, I'm big business 

I'm screaming fuck em 

Photos 

'Migo hit my boost, 'migo hit my boost 

What you know about walking in the Gucci store and they salute? 

Chain cost a coupe, coupe cost a crib 

Riding with the chopper, like it's my friend 

This for real niggas only, I still bet with Kobe 

Got a sign in my garage that say, "Foreign only" 

Forces pouring, on mixtapes I'm touring 

See my shit that fire shit, and yo' shit boring 

I'm chain smoking loud like it's a Newport 

Dad wasn't around - my father figure was Too Short 

New Porsche deuced up, two cups got juice in it 

Two forks, two pots, I could whip it both-handed 

My girl is bow-legged, just do it like Bo Jackson 

Every beat I'm toe-tagging, charm big as a Volkswagon 

Money got me sagging, it really doesn't matter 

I run circles round these niggas' world like Saturn 

Black Foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit 

Riding five deep and I'm as dirty as them congressmen 

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit 

Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit 

Yeah, work, fuck you niggas, pay me though 

Smoke that Mark McGwire strong, Oakland ain't no basic smoke 

Shout-out to your lady, a.k.a. MMG favorite ho 

Tell that ass the way to go before I show her where to go 

No Canseco, and I'm switching lanes at one six oh 

A nigga trees fine - a police siren! 

Woop woop - nah, that's just Diplo 

And you cute, shorty; let's get low 

On the low, I'm a talk that jazz 

Jungle fever for the night 

Horny or white, that's Anglo-Sax