I Don't Like The Look Of It Edited Version

I don't like the look of it. I don't like the look of it. I-I-I-I-don't Okay, I'm sippin' on The syrup, got a, we're movin' slow I'm all About the money, what the you think I do It for? Don't act like you don't know I'm Killin' all these rappers It's custom-made casket For your motherfuckin' funeral Keep the women with Me, shoot, I gotta keep like two or more Party every day like we wanna for the Super Bowl Chillin' with my nigga Mack, we keep bitches Handy White girl on the table, let 'em sniff The nose candy When I'm walkin' by, The women sayin', "Who is that nigga?" I reply, "Ha, I am Gutta-Gutta that nigga" I Was raised in the home of the cap splitters Whip on twenty-fours, watch it crawl like a Caterpillar I come with a toy boy like a Happy Meal And you's a motherfuckin' duck, Daffy Duck I'm from the school of hard knocks Where we scrap and kill Pick a knife or Gun and you could get the package deal I'm Hot, we're burnin' everything around me I was lost For a minute, took a while but I found Me The streets say I'm king but the game'll Never crown me Realest nigga doin' it, Just ask the niggas 'round me So you can't Size me up or try to clown a Shark In the waters, jump in and I'ma drown ya New Orleans nigga, gun out, I'ma down ya Put Niggas to sleep like a motherfuckin' downer I'm a Great white nigga, you's a flounder Fish ain't a Bitch, I tuna everything around ya U-Haul Gutta Movin' everything around ya It's Young Money, Bitch, at the top is where they found us Uh, Goons on deck, Marley don't shoot 'em Silence on The gun, watch a nigga mute him The coach In the booth, call me John Gruden School these Niggas, they all my students All jokes aside, I ain't playin' with you The weed broke down Like a transmission The chopper spin 'em 'round like A ballerina Bitch, I'm still spittin' like I ate A jalapeño I'm from Uptown, my bitch from Argentina My pockets on fat like Joey Cartagena Stunt so Hard, it's all y'all fault And when it come To beef, give me A1 sauce I ain't worryin' 'bout shit, everything paid off You can catch me Courtside the Dwyane Wade house With a hot yellow Thick bitch with her legs out Cash Money president But we in the Red House Who the fuck Want it? Me, my fuckin' D I blow your Candles out, now nigga cut the cake I gotta Eat, nigga, like a runaway Y'all niggas ain't Eatin', stomach ache Okay, all these bitches still Hatin' I used to be ballin' but now I'm Bill Gathin Fuckin' with my iPhone, Bumpin' Illmatic I'm on the road to riches, It's just a little traffic Hair still plaited, Thuggin' is a habit Keep my guitar hip-hop Lenny Kravitz Bunch of bad bitches and I fuck 'em Like rabbits Dope, dope weed, see your girlfriend an Addict, uh I- I- I- I-I don't, don't like the look of it