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John (feat. Rick Ross)
Lil Wayne
Fo' fo' bulldog, my muthaf-cking pet
I point it at you and tell that muthaf-cker fetch
I'm f-cking her good, she got her legs on my neck
I get p-ssy, mouth and ass, call that bitch triple threat
When I was in jail she let me call her collect
But if she get greedy, I'ma starve her to death
Top down, it's upset been f-cking
The world and n-gga and I aint cum yet!
You f-ck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck
The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet
The guns are drawn and I aint talking bout a sketch
I pay these n-ggas with a reality check
Prepare for the worst but still praying for the best
This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress
The money don't sleep so Weezy can't rest
An AK47 is my f-cking address, huh...
I'm not a star, somebody lied
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car...
Yeah,
Load up the choppers like it's December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh!
Big black n-gga, and an icey watch
Shoes on the coupe, bitch I got a Nike shop
Counts the profits you could bring 'em in a Nike box
Grinding in my Jordans kick
Em off they might high, swish!
I'm swimming in the yellow bitch, boss
In the red 911 looking devilish
Red beam make a bitch n-gga sit down
Thought it were bullet proof
Till he got hit the fifth time
Drop Palmolive in a n-gga dope
Make it come back even harder than before
Baby I'm the only one that paid your car notes
Well connected, got killers off in Chicago...
I'm not a star, somebody lied
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car...
Load up the choppers like it's December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh!
Talk stupid get ya head popped
I got that Esther, bitch I'm red fox
Big bee's, Red Sox
I get money to kill time, dead clocks
Your f-cking with a n-gga who don't give a f-ck
Empty the clip than roll a window up
P-ssy n-ggas sweet, you n-ggas center bun
I'm in a red bitch, she said she finna cum
200 thou on a chain, I don't need a piece
That banana clip, let Chiquita speak
Dark shades, Eazy E
Five letters, YMCMB
Bitch ass n-gga, p-ssy ass n-gga
I see ya looking, what ya looking at n-gga
You know the rules, kill em all and keep moving
If I died today it'd be a holiday...
I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
So don't make it come alive
Rip yo ass apart than I put myself together
YMCMB, double M, we rich forever
The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon bang
Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint
Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch
My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks
Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape
Aint it funny momma, only son be baking cakes
Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I'm santa claus
N-ggas gather round, got gifts for all of y'all
Take it home and let it bubble that's the double up
If you get in trouble that just mean you f-cking up
It's a cold World I need a bird to cuddle up
I call the plays, muthaf-ck huddle up...
I'm not a star, somebody lied,
I got a chopper in the car
Yeah...
compositores: DWAYNE CARTER, ERIK ORTIZ, KEVIN CROWE, WILLIAM ROBERTS, JAMAL JONES, CHRISTIAN WARD, ROB HOLLADAY
I point it at you and tell that muthaf-cker fetch
I'm f-cking her good, she got her legs on my neck
I get p-ssy, mouth and ass, call that bitch triple threat
When I was in jail she let me call her collect
But if she get greedy, I'ma starve her to death
Top down, it's upset been f-cking
The world and n-gga and I aint cum yet!
You f-ck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck
The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet
The guns are drawn and I aint talking bout a sketch
I pay these n-ggas with a reality check
Prepare for the worst but still praying for the best
This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress
The money don't sleep so Weezy can't rest
An AK47 is my f-cking address, huh...
I'm not a star, somebody lied
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car...
Yeah,
Load up the choppers like it's December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh!
Big black n-gga, and an icey watch
Shoes on the coupe, bitch I got a Nike shop
Counts the profits you could bring 'em in a Nike box
Grinding in my Jordans kick
Em off they might high, swish!
I'm swimming in the yellow bitch, boss
In the red 911 looking devilish
Red beam make a bitch n-gga sit down
Thought it were bullet proof
Till he got hit the fifth time
Drop Palmolive in a n-gga dope
Make it come back even harder than before
Baby I'm the only one that paid your car notes
Well connected, got killers off in Chicago...
I'm not a star, somebody lied
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car...
Load up the choppers like it's December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh!
Talk stupid get ya head popped
I got that Esther, bitch I'm red fox
Big bee's, Red Sox
I get money to kill time, dead clocks
Your f-cking with a n-gga who don't give a f-ck
Empty the clip than roll a window up
P-ssy n-ggas sweet, you n-ggas center bun
I'm in a red bitch, she said she finna cum
200 thou on a chain, I don't need a piece
That banana clip, let Chiquita speak
Dark shades, Eazy E
Five letters, YMCMB
Bitch ass n-gga, p-ssy ass n-gga
I see ya looking, what ya looking at n-gga
You know the rules, kill em all and keep moving
If I died today it'd be a holiday...
I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
So don't make it come alive
Rip yo ass apart than I put myself together
YMCMB, double M, we rich forever
The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon bang
Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint
Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch
My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks
Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape
Aint it funny momma, only son be baking cakes
Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I'm santa claus
N-ggas gather round, got gifts for all of y'all
Take it home and let it bubble that's the double up
If you get in trouble that just mean you f-cking up
It's a cold World I need a bird to cuddle up
I call the plays, muthaf-ck huddle up...
I'm not a star, somebody lied,
I got a chopper in the car
Yeah...
compositores: DWAYNE CARTER, ERIK ORTIZ, KEVIN CROWE, WILLIAM ROBERTS, JAMAL JONES, CHRISTIAN WARD, ROB HOLLADAY
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