Mr Dopeman - Lil B

Hey, bitch, who sells cocaine?

You selling rocks, nigga?

I got a little cocaine

Boy, you in school!

Why, why you selling drugs in school, man?

You’re in

college!

I want to make a little money

What?!

Man, you better wait this shit out, man;

get your education

I want to sell crack like -- I wanna be… I wanna be Scarface!

I hit a nigga fast with the red beam

Riding downtown in the limousines

I’m thinking about knocking a couple niggas off

Whoadie playing games with the fucking boss

Whoadie don’t know I sell keys

Keys open doors;

call me Pusha T

Brodie facin' fed time

He fuckin' with me, that bitch gotta die

I want to find out who made the crack

Who run the meth labs, who gon' say that?

(Gon' say that?)

Who keeps serving bags with that fucking powder

Ain’t no shortage, I’m talking every hour

Tryna come up;

brodie won’t front none (None)

So how I’m gon' bubble up?

(Bubble up)

Life is rough;

I won’t cry still

Bagging dope up, asking god «Will

He put me up, and put that away?»

I swear to God, man, I ain’t trying to sell no keys today

My rent due today, how I’m gon' pay?

I got a felony.

What they got for me?

(I don’t know)

They say I can’t get a job because I’m worthless (Why?)

But if I ain’t helping no community then I ain’t workin' (Gotta go)

Gon' rock on 'em if I ain’t workin' (Gotta go)

Finna rock on 'em with that black mask and leave them jerkin'

Wonder who cooked the crack

Mr. Dopeman, can you tell me that?

I wonder who bagged the dope

Mr. Dopeman, who is my ho?

Who baggin' up keys?

Mr. Dopeman, won’t you tell me, please?

Why you killin' all these folks?

Mr. Dopeman, I am the ho

Riding up with keys on the front line

Brodie saying I’m facin' fed time

But I can’t really give no shits

If I ain’t makin' no money I out’chea hittin' piss

And why them boys hatin' on me?

I ain’t making no money, niggas hatin' on me

Finna push that front line

Already know, nigga, one time

Still pushing dope still

Rocking up with them blue pills

Everybody know I got it

Selling off that motherfucking weed

Everybody know I flip that quarter pack

I flip that quarter pack, where it’s at

I flip that quarter pack, I flip that motherfucker like «where it’s at»

Flexing all these keys today

Made me who I am in that bad way

Mr. Dopeman, can you ask me

Where them keys at?

Where them doors at?

Where them keys at?

Where them doors at?

Where them keys at?

Where them doors at?

Where them keys at?

Can you tell me that?

I gotta go!

I gotta go!

I gotta go!