[Intro: Lil Wayne] Dope man Dope man, coke man, yeah
[Verse 1: Lil Wayne] I play the Porsche, 918 I mean the Spyder, you do not know what I mean I got a driver for my drop top limousine Go ask yo bitch, I bet she know 'bout Mr. G Yeah he like to talk, she like to talk So when he drop her off, they have a heart to heart Guess he got all the answers And I got all the verses My Benz don't got no ceilings But the windows came with curtains So me and G swervin, me and G swerve I keep the double R, me and Steve Kerr Popping these percs like I'm on injury reserve And when the pockets full of lint, we want that lint to be fur Amen, amen No baking soda, my nigga, we play it raw We put some holes in them niggas, we playin' golf Want you to know it's me nigga, my mask off Cut out your tongue put that bitch in a glass jar Then drop it off to your kid's classroom Dirt bags, we belong on a vacuum A pad room, I fuck in my bathroom Long hallways, my room is the last room Long hard days, my schedule don't have room You home all day, you stuck on your Macbook I'm gone all day, I'm chasing that checkbook I'm stoned all day, I'm stoned all day, I'm on D'usse And back in the day we was on section eight Now we in our own section, motherfucker like "Ayy" All you niggas know what time it is like Flav Public Enemy Number One like Flav Fifteen with a mouth full of golds like Flav Fifteen with a house full of hoes like Hef' Gave G the day off cause the car park itself Shots take off like a stealth and they landed in your scalp Letting human heads replace the Grammies on the shelf Put a bitch head right below the belt 'til she belch And she won't get a dollar; zero, zilch Cup muddy-muddy, muddy-muddy-muddy Tunechi pass the blunt, I'm gon' need time to study They don't know who got the gun But they know who got the money We don't wanna know what's up We wanna know who got the money What these niggas wanna do? What these bitches want from me? Bitches claiming I'm a dog, but these bitches want puppies These bitches bring luggage, my bitches bring others My bitches bring rubbers, your bitches burn rubbers Your bitches burn supper I'm still major and I made ya niggas You getting bodied by a skater nigga I'm not the type of nigga that be Skypin' bitches Shout out to all my bitches one nightin' niggas Make sure you hit 'em with the Slut Walk Yeah, then text that man to fuck off And I pour up another one, another one The cream soda tastin' like bubble gum Woah, straight swerving on these niggas From Collins to Highland to Bourbon on these niggas Them other niggas just wasn't deserving of me, niggas So I'm swerving on them niggas No more Family Matters, no more Urkel on them niggas I'm feeling like a born again virgin on them niggas I'm running to the bank, quick as Herchel on them niggas What's in your wallet? I done went commercial on them niggas On purpose on them niggas All black hoodie, all black gat to match Yeah, put it to your head, and: Blat! When we see you boy them shots be coming back to back Long hair, don't care, nigga; Cactus Jack No CeilingsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
