James Fauntleroy II - Clique lyrics

[Produced by Kanye West, Hit-Boy, Anthony Kilhoffer, and Noah Goldstein] [Intro: James Fauntleroy] What of the dollar you murdered for? Is that the one fighting for your soul? Or your brother's the one that you're running from? But if you got money, f** it, ‘cause I want some [Big Sean] B-I-G, who f**in' with me? Oh God! Okay [Hook: Big Sean] Ain't nobody f**in' with my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'f**in' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad b**hes, man They want the, they want the, they want the [Verse 1: Big Sean] (B-I-G, oh God! Go) I tell a bad b**h do whatever I say My block behind me, like I'm coming out the driveway It's grind day, from Friday to next Friday I been up straight for nine days, I need a spa day (spa day) Yup, she tryin' to get me that poon-tang I might let my crew bang, my crew deeper than Wu-Tang I'm rollin' with... f** I'm saying? Girl, you know my crew name You know 2 Chainz? Scrrr! I'm pullin' up in that Bruce Wayne But I'm the f**in' villain Man, they kneelin' when I'm walking in the buildin' Freaky women I be feelin' from the bank accounts I'm fillin' What a feelin'! Ah man, they gotta be Young player from the D That's k**ing everything that he see for the dough [Hook: Big Sean] Ain't nobody f**in' with my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'f**in' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad b**hes, man They want the, they want the, they want the [Verse 2: Jay Z] (Click clack, stick 'em up!) Yeah, I'm talkin' Ye, yeah, I'm talkin' Rih Yeah, I'm talkin' B, n***a, I'm talkin' me Yeah, I'm talkin' bossy, I ain't talkin' Kelis Your money too short, you can't be talking to me Yeah, I'm talkin' LeBron, we ball in our family tree G.O.O.D. Music drug-dealing cousin Ain't nothin' f**in' with we, me Turn that 62 to 125, 125 to a 250 250 to a half a million, ain't nothin' nobody can do with me Now, who with me? ¡Vámonos! Call me Hov or Jefe Translation: I'm the sh**, least that what my neck say Least that what my check say, lost my homie for a decade n***a down for like 12 years Ain't hug his son since the second grade Uh, he never told—who he gonna tell? We top of the totem pole It's the Dream Team meets the Supreme Team And all our eyes green, it only means one thing You ain't f**in' with the clique [Hook: Big Sean] Ain't nobody f**in' with my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'f**in' clique Clique, clique, clique, clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique Clique, clique, clique, clique And all these bad b**hes, man They want the, they want the, they want the [Verse 3: Kanye West] Break records at Louis, ate breakfast at Gucci My girl a superstar all from a home movie Bow on our arrival, the un-American idols What n***as did in Paris, got 'em hangin' off the Eiffel Yeah, I'm talkin' business, we talkin' CIA I'm talkin' George Tenet, I seen him the other day He asked me about my Maybach, think he had the same Except mine tinted and his might have been rented You know, white people get money, don't spend it Or maybe they get money, buy a business I rather buy 80 gold chains and go ign'ant I know Spike Lee gon' k** me, but let me finish Blame it on the pigment, we livin' no limits Them gold Master P ceilings was just a figment Of our imagination, MTV cribs Now I'm lookin' at a crib right next to where TC lives That's Tom Cruise, whatever she accuse He wasn't really drunk, he just had a frew brews Pa** the refreshments, a cool, cool beverage Everything I do need a news crew's presence Speedboat swerve, homie, watch out for the waves I'm way too black to burn from sunrays So I just meditate at the home in Pompeii About how I could build a new Rome in one day Every time I'm in Vegas they screamin' like he's Elvis But I just wanna design hotels and nail it sh** is real, got me feelin' Israelian Like Bar Refaeli, or Gisele—no, that's Brazilian Went through, deep depression when my mama pa**ed Suicide, what kinda talk is that? But I been talkin' to God for so long That if you look at my life I guess he's talkin' back f**in' with my clique [Outro: Big Sean] Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'f**in' clique As I look around, they don't do it like my clique And all these bad b**hes, man They want the, they want the, they want the Go!