[Intro: Scotty ATL & B.o.B]
(KE on the Track)
Bob, what up, man?
What's up, fool? (These niggas out here hustlin' for approval)
You know, I don't really fuck with these niggas, man
Well, fuck 'em, tuh (Real nigga ain't ever 'posed to hustle for approval)
Talk to 'em talk to 'em, talk to 'em (Scotty ATL, fool)
[Verse 1: Scotty ATL]
Two, three times had to fall on my face
Damn, you 'posed to be a nigga I can trust
You ain't never 'posed to let a real nigga fall
I recall you was schemin' on the niggas in your own in the circle
You were lying on the internet, boy
These niggas lame, talking real shit, niggas ain't real
You just tryna come up on a nigga, I can feel
Told 'em I ain't fucking with these niggas, I'ma focus on my own shit
Cool Club for life, had the suit on Kanye
Give a fuck 'bout all that
Finna turn like car keys (Turn up)
With a bad bitch and a cup full of Cognac
Call Twelve, this a carjack
I be ridin' like I'm motherfuckin' trained to park valet
With the Swisher full of Cali
Yeah, I need that, these niggas want my last nerve
Who you trying to impress?
You be trickin' off your old check, y'all niggas ain't ball like
We can can see it on your IG
You be, trying too hard, you don't even live your own life
Get in line, I can teach that
Take over time, give 'em head like MJ
Put some clear in the OJ, RIP my nigga OJ
They ain't know I don't really fuck with these niggas
[Chorus: Scotty ATL]
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
[Verse 2: Scotty ATL]
Show a nigga love, I was shitted on (Shitted on)
Now I'm Hollywood, now I ball like fuck 'em
Need to cut the tees out the top of the Culli', they can see me
They can see me hold a motherfuckin' semi
Double X-L even Complex, no radio
On tour getting good dough
Meeting tightwads
All they know about the pudding, but hey don't know about hood though
Give her foot long, I'm just tryna get the long bread
Get your ass out my pathway
In the fast lane chasing paper like a maniac
Man, we struggled way too long
Want a Lambo' just to ride
Wanna feel like Ace Boog' on the good part
And the good Lord, help me blow and help me getting rich
Help me make it real, real far
Know this one thing, niggas act like they wanna see
Like they wanna see you take off
Never for them, so I grind, I ain't letting up
I ain't taking no days off
We were cool with them, but they were hating, I can feel it
They were hating, I can feel it
I'ma make 'em look bad, jealous all of that, boy
Watch a real nigga kill it, ayy
[Chorus: Scotty ATL]
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
[Verse 3: B.o.B]
Man, I feel like fuck these niggas
I ain't really feeling nan' one of these niggas
I'm worldwide, boy, you just a one street nigga
MLB ballin', Barry Bond league hitters
I ain't got– I ain't got no handout for these niggas
But lyrically I'ma make examples out of niggas
They gon' fuck around and pull Atlanta out a nigga
They don't get it to tell I whip the Lamo' out on niggas
Yeah, catch heat, make a camel out a nigga
They gon' swear they got the Rambo out to get 'em
What the fuck you fantasizing, nigga?
It ain't real beef unless they pullin' ammo out of niggas
How can niggas even think they on my level (On my level)
When ain't too many niggas thinking on my level? (All over)
Take a minute, nigga, think of something clever
If it's numbers to this shit I'm going meta
I won't say I'm a vet
Just somewhere 'tween the best and ahead of the rest
Next level finesse, heavy metal possessed
Bullshit to my right, pulpit to my left
That ain't neither here nor there, nevertheless
Just tell your friend bring a lighter, it's on
Both my eyes low like Cheech and Chong
Bobby Ray Bands in your camera phone
If I ain't on your TV, boy, you got the channel wrong
[Chorus: Scotty ATL]
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, I don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas
I don't really fuck with these niggas, i don't fuck with these niggas
Man, I don't really fuck with these niggas