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Lil' Wayne: |
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Bring the crowd and I'm loud in livin' color, |
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It is Weezy Fuckin' Baby got these rappers in my stomach,yummy, |
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I'm takin' it I ain't askin' 'em for nothin', |
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If you sell a million records we could battle for your money, |
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I'd rather count a hundred thousand dollars on a Sunday, |
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Watch a football game and bet it all on one play, |
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Still stuntin' baby yes I'm still flossin' latest car on the market with the top peeled off it, |
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Big wheels make it look a little bulky, you look a little salty have yourself a chilled coffee, |
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Chill out the girls is still out, even though I am a boss I got papers to fill out, |
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I'm busy I got paper to reel in, God I hope they steppin' at the end of my rod, |
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I hope I'm fishin' in the right pond, |
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And I hope you catchin' onto every line, |
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Who am I? |
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Hook: |
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The Best Rapper Alive (Yep) x4 |
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Swagger right (check) |
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Game tight |
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And they gone R-E-S-P-E-C-T me |
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Who? |
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The Best Rapper Alive (Yep) x4 |
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Swagger right (check) |
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Game tight |
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And you should be afraid, be very afraid, yeah! |
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The heart of New Orleans, |
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Thumpin' and beatin, living and breathin', |
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Stealin' and feedin', peelin' and leavin', |
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Killin' and grievin', dearly departed, |
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Erased deleted, |
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No prints no plates, no face no trace, |
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Out of sight out of mind, no court no case, |
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Sell his chains, celebrate |
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Block party, 2nd Lines, Zulu Ball, |
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Essence Fest, Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras |
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Shorty Bounce, Body Rock |
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Now he drop, now he got family |
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Try tell a Fed, tell a cop, |
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Smell a rat comin' back to the house to the spot |
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Tap-tap, knock-knock, |
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Who is that? (ch- ch- wop!) |
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Triggaman, Hoodieman, |
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Tell the kids Boogieman, |
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Pistol Pete, Ammo Mammal, Gunman, blum blam! Ha ha, |
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Damn Sammy you done f**ked up, |
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Pussy ass niggas put ya nuts up, |
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Just call me: |
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Hook |
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'Fuck up wit all these rookie MCs, |
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You smell like a bunch of pussy to me, Fuck 'em! |
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Fuck 'em good, fuck 'em long, f**k 'em hard, |
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Fuck who? Fuck 'em all! (Yep) |
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Like that yeah just like that, |
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Right back I'm on that money train and that mack'll knock 'em off track, |
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The quarterback, well protected from the Warren Sapps, |
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The young heart attack, I spit that cardiac, |
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You can't see me baby boy you got that cataracts, |
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I'm right here straight out the hood just like an alley cat, |
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Since everyone's a king'll where the fuck your palace at, |
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Me I got callus on my hands, I can handle that, |
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It's no problem, baby I so got it, |
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It's just a victory lap, baby I'm just joggin', |
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Yeah, and I ain't even out of breath, |
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The muthafuckin' best yet, sorry for cussin', |
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Who? |