What I Do

[Intro]
Uh, you know
We do this shit
We don't need no mothafuckin' compliments, man
Nigga get his ass shot, that shit we supposed to do cause we some real niggas
You follow me?
Beatin' niggas ass, fuckin' niggas hoes, ridin' rims
That's shit we supposed to do
Cause we some mothafuckin' real niggas
She a bad bitch, she supposed to fuck with some real niggas

[Chorus: Juvenile]
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 them if it's love cause they show me
And all my real niggas ride for me
If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly

[Verse 1: Waka Flocka Flame]
All the real niggas, they fuckin' with me
Bad bitches, they fuckin' with me
In the VIP, with my strap on me
Blowin' gas, sippin' this cup of Remy
My shoes Fendi, my jeans (?)
My shirt Fendi, my buckle Fendi
She ain't no fun, crew can't hit her
I fuck and pass 'em, ain't cuffing any
Believe it or not, no fucking really
Hood nigga driving this fuckin' Bentley
Don't play no games with these lame niggas
Stomp a nigga out if he scuff my tennys
Every nigga round me 100
Leave a hunnid racks, they won't touch a penny
Bands on me, no twenties, fifties
Just hundreds, pockets they stuffed with centuries
They say Flocka, he 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
Lookin' like I cooked that, nigga
I’m a real jack boy
Caught a nigga slippin' and I took that, nigga

[Chorus: Juvenile]
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 them if it's love cause they show me
And all my real niggas ride for me
If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly

[Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame]
Check the lane, I'm flexin'
Real niggas only in my section
Ferragamo my belt buckle
Hand cuffs on me, no arresting
FN on my waist line
In case a fuck nigga wanna test me
Elm Street, I'm Piru
Real right nigga, no leftie
Ask around town, niggas know Flocka
I'm a real street nigga, name heavy
In the bushes, that chopper nigga
Dressed in all black like Wesley
I'm a rich nigga, for some red bottoms
She'll 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
200k in my matress
Won't ever change, always stay the same
Only thing that change is my address
With my status, can’t fuck with basic bitches
Can’t fuck with her if she average
Squad

[Chorus: Juvenile]
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 them if it's love cause they show me
And all my real niggas ride for me
If we beefin', all you bitches dying slowly