Bangladesh - They Point lyrics

[Hook: Mr. Bangladesh] (x2) Every time I stop, hoes like look at him Every car I drive, n***as want one of them They pointin', they pointin They like dammmmmn They pointin', they pointin They like dammmmmn [Verse 1: E-40] Like Ricky Ross, everyday I'm hustlin' Gettin' off weight (like who?) Jennifer Hudson Pack a hammer, Thor Shooter, score Slide through batches think I'm hecka rich Breakin' necks, turnin' heads like the exorcist Thumbs up like the like bu*ton Eatin' good, no rib touchin' Runnin' with a bundle, never fumble Countin' so much bread I got Carpal tunnel Stock paint (from where?) Maaco Beige, like a potato They hate me on the outside, love me in the inside s** me in the back seat while I let a friend drive Half a pound two stacks, half a unit 10-5 I stay out here by Sully so you know a hustler been fly [Hook] [Verse 2: Juicy J] My pockets some'n serious, mansion on a hilly Main that n***a got more cheese than a philly Shoelace tied but a n***a still trippin' I'm Lionel Richie high, I'm dancin' on the ceiling Never marry a hoes, I just marry checks That's how you stay on top, missionary s** Rubba Band Business, know you heard of that I got the town talkin, know you scurred of that None less than ten figures, you know what I'm worth Record sales, show money, not including merch' Club full of b**hes, pocket full of Franks Blunt full of weed, cup full of drank Me going raw dog, ain't no way in hell Before I risk my life it be a cold day in hell But b**h take it off, here we go show and tell And I'm f**in' that p**y like I'm fresh out of jail [Hook] [Verse 3: 2 Chainz] Parallel park while I'm ghost riding Black diamonds man I'm racial profiling I'm so fly man I need a co-pilot So I might let your damn ho drive it Lil' hair pullin' man I like rough s** Dropped out, I ain't never pa**ed a drug test You know my lingo baby let's mingle So I got a thousand dollars worth of singles I got racks in the cargo of my camo Still, still won't give her Nathaniel Life a gamble so I had to make a bet These ain't Air Max but I can make a check They took me out the streets but it's still in me I been sellin' werk since we had Bill Clinton I'm the voice of the streets so they still listen On the back of the milk carton, ceiling missing [Hook]