B.o.B - Epic ft. Playboy Tre & Meek Mill Lyrics

B.o.B - Epic ft. Playboy Tre & Meek Mill Lyrics:

[B.o.B:]
You know who it is without a doubt of hesitation
If money talks I got my masters in communication
But you can't hold a conversation
Probably find me burning something good you can call that Smoking Aces
Compliment the chef in the lab making greatness
Ain't a thing changed but the number on the statement
NBA resume, baller's my occupation
Kush so loud I can't hear what was you saying
Praise yo solo that the freaks in the backseat
Get a thrill off the alpine when it vibrate they ass cheeks
I'm Bobby Ray baby an all American athlete
I run and leap and jump and... like a track
Yeah that ought to do it
Give it that Carl Lewis
I got the magic baby call me George Lucas
I'm so prolific but my flow's so foolish
These niggas making moves my niggas making movies wait

[Playboy Tre:]
Wile like a crazy mic
Clean like a baby wipe
Y'all just a momma boy sleeping with a baby like
My ex say I'm a dick cause my mind frank cocky
Up in... drinking all the sake
Damn right I want a double fried rice
I'm getting bread I put my dick up in your face
Your face'll look like...
Girls call me Tre day
I'm looking for pay day
My squad's got more bottle poppin' niggas than the AA
Liquor and wheelbarrow foolish as Will Ferrell
But I ain't got a step brother, I fuck your step mother
I cussed cause I like it bitch
Fuck hoe mother fucker
You mad cause I'm balling, life as a mother fucker
Your son is a leprichaun so hater live life a little
New shit dropping soon "Patron & Instrumental"
It's Tre, My flow won't quit til I say it ends

[B.o.B:]
Don't roll with pussy niggas, we call them va-jeanas
That's why your girl choosing don't pray I never meet her
I tap her on the head and say you know the procedure
You just mad with no bitch cause I'm chilling with your bitch
She through out your mixtape but she knows my whole disc
My flow's sick, I'm a poet, Edgar Allen Poe shit
Haters be getting defensive like 4th down and show blitz
But I don't bun it, I run it for a hundred
Ever since I was a young 'un, been hungry as Paul Bunyon
I'm the shit so fix the plumbing
I'ma beast and the game's 200
And if this ain't what you call hip-hop you must be bungee jumping
I'm smoking on... some of you call that chronic
Hennessey in my vomit cause the night before...
Lil C got that beat bumping so you can hear me drumming
I remains by the way eastside of the A just incase anyone was wondering bitch

[Meek Mill:]
Ohh I'm a mother fucking beast
All my haters rest in peace
I make a hundred on the money and go hard the rest of week
Pray on niggas like a Sunday
See your artist that's a feast
I got like 30 in the chalk I let you pussies...
It was me and old Melly in this game levy
Swagger on the finish, I think I'm Andretti
I push you to the limit get 'em haters gassed heavy
Wait a minute I'm a menace
Shout out to the winners
I'm just getting started and niggas at they end 
And errbody say I'm hot but I've been hot since the beginning
I be with a bitch that looks like Kim Kardashian...