lirik lagu click clack – nicki minaj
[chorus:]
alot of rap n-gg-s be trynna play hard
i was tought to only reach
when i lift da shirt dats da end of discussion
click clack m-th- f-ckaz, i ain’t trynna hear dat
[verse 1:]
they call me nicholas, style defined as ridiculous
i beg your pardon, meet me at da garden
#1 draft, i’m new york’s pick & i don’t lose like dem dudes on da new york knicks… (check it)
i’m over seas rockin h-lla capris, in da west indies eatin delacasies… i tel em
dey want cain like erica… please
brotha your money young like goverment cheese
dese broke rappers always rappin bout a pink truck, i’m only happy wen i hopin out da brincks truck
and i don’t need a 16, i got a sentence… i goes on a f-cka like an entrance
dese old b-tches betta change dey denture, wen i get in da game dey gon play da benches
f-ck your friendship, pay attention
b-tch get at me, i’m a pay my henchmen
[chorus:]
alot of rap n-gg-s be trynna paly hard
i was tought ?
when i lift da shirt dats da end of discussion
click clcak m-th- f-ckaz, i ain’t trynna hear nuthin
[verse 2:]
dey call me maraj, f-ck u & f-ck your squad
head b-tch in charge, i ain’t talkin bout da tod
i’m on da other line & i ain’t talkin bout call waitin
i’m vip lil mama i jus walk str8 in
lil dolce & gabanna got dis bul hatin, dats i pop up in da porch with da top vacant
mami stop fakin, talkin bout wat u got, u ain’t got nathin & your not caking
your not my taste, get outta my face, i play da top like eight friendz on your mysp-ce
stay in a childs place… check da timin
i roc b-tches like dey throwin up da diamond (its the roc)
u on a flight, i be bakin on islands
mami your accent sound faker den dylan
murda dem, murda dem, f-ck a compet-tion, already murda dem
[chorus:]
alot of rap n-gg-s be trynna paly hard
i was tought ?
when i lift da shirt dats da end of discussion
click clcak m-th- f-ckaz, i ain’t trynna hear nuthin
[verse 3:]
dey call me nicki m., hard to find me in a sticky gin
i play da club, with a thug & sum pretty friendz
and if dey ain’t got da gat, dey got da knife on
your too wack to get up on one of y song
u gotta deal, cause u was givn up da coochie prolly, but i’ll arrange one hit like oochie wallie
and u’ll be gon to november like wyclef, i hold wieght & i ain’t talkin bout biceps
i rep queens like da crown, wen i’m in da town, ask yung joc… it’s goin down
kisses to my b-tches and my n-gg-s, getta pound
june, turn me up… mic check… ?
b-tches don’t kno da half, like dey flucked at math, give a f-ck about a b-tch & da clique she with
unless u doin dem numbaz like arithmetic, young nic.holla bac & turn up my shyt
[chorus:]
alot of rap n-gg-s be trynna paly hard
i was tought ?
when i lift da shirt dats da end of discussion
click clcak m-th- f-ckaz, i ain’t trynna hear nuthin
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