Its gravy nigga. Believe it.
You hot? Fuck it. Hot as a firecracker.
(Its gravy too.) I got a mac in this bag.
(click clock) What you got? Glock. (Look)
[Baby]
Nigga Ima tell ya straight off the bat
I got a mac in this bag with 20 grams of crack
And Ima sit in the back seat of yo Lac
Just in case I gotta snap, a firette to the chest
If I dont know shit, I know cars and broads
I done ordered plenty hits and watched heads come off
And I done saw my nigga get life behind them bars
To them dog hoes, nigga, we scream «fuck em all!»
I hustle hard in these city streets
I got my block on fire with my HBs
Spinnin Benz in these drop tops double r
Cook a brick, flip em up, now I got em hard
And you can find me
Right up in them hallways, holdin and totin
Got the whole motherfuckin block loaded and smokin
Nigga know one thang: its some uptown shit
If a nigga get it fucked, then we killin a bitch
[Chorus]
Nigga Ima tell ya this, straight off the bat
I got a mac in this bag, with 20 grams of crack
Well lets go nigga, see we can slide nigga
Cuz if you hot, then Im hot, lets ride nigga
Look, Ima tell you this, straight off the top
I got a blunt, and a glock, and a bag of rocks
Lets go nigga, lets slide nigga
If you hot, then Im hot, lets ride nigga
[Lil Wayne]
Better pay attention now so you dont forget later
I run the damn block, I oversee all of the paper
Dont make me take ya, play ya
I cock the glock and spray ya
Call it a caper, wont be no as-salama-laka
And J, he got the gauges, they cocked and ready
Make me run up in ya places and pop ya daddy
Got them bricks rocked and heavy, let it be known
I cook it hard and cut em in zones and the money be gone
Then I hit a blunt to the dome, and ride when night falls
Supply the white raw, if theres a problem, knock ya wife off
Lock the spot down
Respect it young nigga, Im creepin over
Now cut it with just a little bakin soda, breakin boulders
I take it out my holster and bakin soldiers whenever
Nigga its whatever, tell ya ma to call the reverend
You see me on the block with crack, gats, and weed
Rats, plats, and kis, thats practically me
[Chorus]
[Lil Wayne]
See Im a hustler, cut-throat, put rhymes in moms muffler
You cant even count how many times the 9s bust at ya
Some of the, niggas that you run with are, suckas bruh
None of ya, wont leave, without some bullets up in ya
Niggas cant hold me down, wodie wild
Cuz all that they can hear is loud screamin and explosive sounds
They show me how to cook that brown and rock that white
No school, put that book back down, pick up that knife
See thats the real reason I hate to be on tour
Id rather be back on the block with a bird of that pure
Niggas got it all wrong, thinkin Im all song
But yall gon twist it and end up all gone
Dog-gone cocksuckers, you not thuggers
I pop dozens of glocks, cousins, in my struggle
So stop frontin, it aint gon get ya everywhere
Ima start bustin, and bullets hit ya everywhere