OPUS

(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh)

I ain't Stefan Effenberg, but my D-game blows them away
I tell the chick: Please don't call me Daddy, or they'll speculate again, I have a daughter
Her wishlist is so long, I think she believes we're playing I pack my bags
She wants Chanel and Gucci, but can't cook, Bitch, leave me, I'll never eat Whopper again
Sell thirty thousand tickets to customers in one day
That's two million in twenty-four hours
We'll spin a total of three more rounds
Now do the math, and then ask yourself why I don't suck up to anyone for a feature
Meet me at Booby Trap, meet me at Tootsie's
She got them heavies, looks like a doll
Cheerleader effect, she stands out in the group

(Huh-huh, huh-huh) Yeah
(Huh-huh, huh-huh) Hey

They analyzed my last album, disassembled and reassembled it
I handle the shit like the Krusty Krab, you get nothing from the sauce
I know many with millions, but not with melanin in their skin (Nah)
I'll get us out of the consequences of slavery, Mama, and I want that too

(Huh-huh, huh-huh) Yeah
(Huh-huh, huh-huh) Let's go

Your album popped like GTA 4 on PlayStation 3 came out
I'm making GTA 5-like earnings
The whips outside are not rental cars (Skrrt)
Many hoped for my downfall
Many hoped I would fail on the way
(Many of them lie and swear to God, but don't tell anyone)

(Huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)
(Huh-huh, huh-huh)