Текст песни Lil' Wayne — Gossip
I hate this,
And I don’t walkin around looking for it ya know
But yesterday it seems just wonder around till it found me you know like
Gossip found me
Then why don’t you try prove it
How?
You don’t know how to prove it,
Well what you just you do is…
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,
Stop hatin on a n*gga that is a weak emotion
The lady of a n*gga
And You can get tip like you waitin on a n*gga
Put a body bag in the apron on a n*gga
I give my all behind the mic
But you could never see if you sit behind the light
You don’t have to pick me
To win the title fight
But I’m gonna win a championship belt so tight
And if I’m wrong there is no right
And if I’m wrong there is no white
I’m triin to be polite
But you bitches in my hair like the fuckin po-lice
My flow is rare
There’s other rappers nice
These other rappers bark
Some other even bite
But I’m much more bright
I give the game sight
So before you dim the light
You just might might wanna
Think it over, think it over, ooo think it over baby
Stop!
Stop analyzing
Criticizing
You should realize
What I am is ’n start epitomizing
Confident
Got the heart of the biggest lion
Confident like fuck em all
Pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick so sick its like my shit is dyin’
It rains a lot in my city
Cuz my city’s cry’s’
’cuz my cities dyin"
But I emerge from all of that
I am a livin’ pioneer
Zion
Fear god not them
Steer my robbin" coupe through the streets to the booth
Then I leave a tub in the booth
I leave a blood bath
Sorry there’s a tub in the booth
Now where the drugs at
Like the strings on the shoe
No nigga fuck that
I’m twisted like the strings on a boot
Where new Orleans at?
I build hip hop store me like a bus pass
So in your possession
I must ask
Hey haven’t I been good to you tell me haven’t I been sweet to you
Drag my name through the mud
I come out clean
Cast away stones
I wont even blink
A gun is not a math problem
I wont even think
Just leave your dead like the mink under my sink
Don’t believe in me
Don’t believe me
I graduated from hungry
And made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta
Take it and eat it
But I’m gonna need cheese if I’m makin’ a ziti
You niggas want beef
I want a steak and a weevy
Lost in Amsterdam but Jamaica where we be
Hard body nigga takin’ it easy
All about my paper bout my paper like easy
Why do rappers why do rappers lot a fans lot a rappers lot a rappers lie like that
Cut the mutha fuckin camera
Cut the check
Fuck your props
I AM hip hop
& i aint dead I’m alive.
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