What I Do

English translation

-Uh. -Mike Will Made-It.

You know.

We do this shit.

We don't need no motherfucking compliments, man.

-Fatality.

-Hit his ass, shot that shit we supposed to do 'cause we some real niggas.

You follow me?

Beat a nigga's ass, fuck a nigga hoe.

Riding rims, that shit we supposed to do 'cause we some motherfucking real niggas.

She a bad bitch, supposed to fuck with some real niggas. Squad.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do. I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do. I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

And all my bad bitches, they'll do me. I don't ask 'em if it's love 'cause they show me. I'm good at what

I do. And all my real niggas ride for me.

If we beefing, all you bitches dying slowly.

All the real niggas, they fucking with me. Bad bitches, they fucking with me. In the

VIP with my strap on me, blowing gas, sipping this Cuparini.

Shoes Fendi, my jeans Hudson, my shirt Fendi, my buckle Fendi.

She ain't no fun, crew can't hit her. I'll fucking pass the mannequin, Nini.

Believe it or not, no fucking really. Hood nigga driving this fucking Bentley.

Don't play no games with these lame niggas. Stomp a nigga out if he suck my titties.

Every nigga 'round me one hundred. Leave a hundred racks and won't touch a penny.

Bands on me, no twenties, fifties, just hundreds. Pockets, they stuffed for centuries.

They say Flocka a shooter. Damn right, that's what I'm good at, nigga.

You can try me if you want to. Get your shit pushed back, nigga.

Half a ticket on my neck like a dope boy, looking like I cook that, nigga.

I'm a real trap boy, caught a nigga slipping then I took that nigga.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do. I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

And all my bad bitches, they'll do me. I don't ask 'em if it's love 'cause they show me. I'm good at what

I do. And all my real niggas ride for me.

If we beefing, all you bitches dying slowly.

Jet the lane, I'm flexing. Real niggas only my section.

Ferragamo my belt buckle, handcuffs on me, no arresting.

FN on my waistline, catch a buck, nigga wanna test me. Elm Street, I'm Piru.

Real right nigga, no lefty. Ask around town, niggas know Flocka.

Real street nigga named Heavy.

In the bushes, that chopper, nigga dressed in all black like Wesley.

I'm a rich nigga, fuck some red bottom. She do anything, she bless me.

Have a threesome with two bad bitches. I fucked her and her bestie. Only smoke gas, no reggie.

If it ain't loud, don't pass it.

Real street nigga with a bank account, two hundred K in my mattress. Won't ever change, always stay the same.

Only thing that change is my address. And my standards, can't fuck with basic bitches.

Can't fuck with her if she average. Squad.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

I'm good at what I do, good at what I do. I'm good at what I do, good at what I do.

And all my bad bitches, they'll do me. I don't ask 'em if it's love 'cause they show me. I'm good at what

I do. And all my real niggas ride for me.

If we beefing, all you bitches dying slowly. I'm good at what I do.

Ooh, kill.