[Lil Wayne] Young Money, syrup in the big shot Time to do the thing that’s word to your wrist watch Shoot the glock till it burn till my wrist lock Rims hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock Ho-hold the gun sideways like O’Dogg Shoot a nigga in his face knock his nose off Make the girls say my name like a roll call Pain killers got a nigga about to doze off Big shit nigga, talk big shit nigga Big bread, bread like a picnic nigga Shake the whole game like the hit stick nigga Money spread like germs, get sick nigga Yeah, and fuck them other niggas 1 9 hundred who want it? I deliver Concrete shoes won’t help in the river I don’t care if you was Michael Phelps my nigga I’m higher than the motherfucking Alp’s my nigga I’m flyer than a motherfucking stealth my nigga Yo-Young Money shit, top shelf my nigga We the motherfucker’s like MILF my nigga Uh um, flow like syringes Yeah I’m in my mode got a code like Da Vinci’s I was in the trenches, now I’m in the trunk And everybody watch your back, when you’re in the front You ain’t never safe stop playing with a gangster Bring it to his face and he ran like a flanker Bend the girl over put her hands on her ankles I’m all over this ice cream beat like sprinkles Why thank you, if you’s a hater I’m eating, you’s a waiter Pistol on my hip, Tomb Raider Holla at your gualla, soon later Young Tune nigga, typhoon nigga And if you think it’s sweet, buy a room nigga Damu nigga, I’m on my gang shit She give me good brain like she studied at Cambridge Lighting up a motherfucking blunt Stupid fruity swag like a motherfucking runt And I be with my dog like a motherfucking hunter Every day of the week is the first of the month Audemar Piguet with the diamonds in the face Can’t tell the time cause the diamonds in the face We can get it popping like a semi-automatic And if you got beef I put the biscuit on the patty Rock star tatted, big money addict Running this shit now I’m feeling athletic I-I’m on a boat bitch, getting sea sick Stop playing I’m fresher then a degree stick Street shit, well of course, I smoke mad weed I’m on my high horse, please don’t shoot me down, I land feet flat Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back haa I need a massage, and when it comes to hoes man I gotta collage Finger on the button, nigga just stunting If you ain’t the bank teller don’t tell me nothing Kush so strong you can smell me coming Bitch I go hard like the boy from 300 You think y’all kick it, well boy we punting Young Money baby we the shit, weak stomachs No Ceilings MotherfuckerTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
