Mark McGwire – Future

Letra Future – Mark McGwire

Yeah, I guess I feel like Lance Armstrong
You know, I win the race, hell yeah
We call it the Tour of the Streets
But it’s like I’m cheatin’
Cause my shit is on steroids
And they shit ain’t
You niggas keep peddlin’, though
Mr. Thanksgiving

I took those VVS’s – and slapped ‘em right on my chest
After I smash her, I don’t care who come next
I took off in a Bentley, and came back in a Spider
My trap on steroids, we servin’ Mark McGwire
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?

I think I’m Big Meech – all my niggas sell drugs
Cause I’m a rich ni*** – she wanna give me a hug
But she a freak ho – and I won’t show her no love
My shit’s on Mobb Deep – like I’m from NYC
A thousand for some glasses – I see my city in 3D
I’m poppin’ bottles, ni*** – like it’s the 4th of July
I think I’m Bill Gates – I’m takin’ over the Net
We shootin’ choppers, ni*** – we ain’t f*** with them tecs
I think I’m Young Jeezy – cause I motivate thugs, yeahhhh
I think I’m Lil’ Boosie – I’m ‘bout to start sendin’ hits
And Future Castellano – I’m on that mafia shit

I took those VVS’s – and slapped ‘em right on my chest
After I smash her – I don’t care who come next
I took off in a Bentley – and came back in a Spider
My trap on steroids – we servin’ Mark McGwire
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?
Who you think you is? Who you think you is?

I know my dope raw – I seen it come out her ass
I wipe that shit off – and throw it right in the bag
I’m livin’ fabulous – the shit I do in your dreams
‘Future you’re arrogant’ – now I think I’m the king
Name a bitch I can’t f*** – name a bitch that ain’t tight
Name a bitch that ain’t a slut – just name one, name one
I think I’m Antawn Jamison – I’m ballin’, ballin’, ballin’
I think I’m Ted Turner – when I ride around with that burner
I got three young gunners – and they gon’ squeeze on anything I point at
I think I’m Ferragamo – I think I’m leanin’, I think I’m leanin’
I think I’m ‘bout to turn up – I think I’m ‘bout to burn up
A sack full of hundreds – all this ice on me