500 Degreez – Lil Wayne
[Lil Wayne talking]
It’s the real sh_t, yeah
500 Degreez this time biotch
Yes sir, you already know
[Lil Wayne verse 1]
You see me? I eat, sleep, sh_t, and talk snaps; so f_ck rap
Man I got weed, pills, pistols, all crack
B_tch n_ggas where ya hearts at?
Ya’ll ain’t stuntin’ like us
B_tch n_ggas where ya cars at?
They like, “Wayne why the f_ck you dressed in all black?”
I’m about to bring CMR back
And all the lames, we done lost that
And all we got is Weezy, Weezy, and Lil’ Weezy to fall back
I’m about to lock it from the summer to the fall and back
“Its Weezy baby!” The ballers back
And the wheels on my car you got all of that
Stop playing, I’ve been balling jack
You don’t want my glock spraying I hit all them cats
You don’t want my stomach ache – I sh_t on them cats
I get all them gats Fresh and B it’s all a rap!
If I’m the only Hot Boy what do you call that?
[Chorus]
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
[Lil Wayne]
B_tch what? I’ll bust ya ass up
Don’t even go there round
N_ggas get your cash up
We probably need to clash up
And sh_t got me ’bout ass up
They finding n_ggas in they sh_t with they ass up
It ain’t October 31st but we gone mask up and guess what
And I heard they got a nice chain
And for the right price I’ll bust the right brain
And mommy hot cause pull up in that white thang
Yo n_gga might be fly but I still get trifling
Riding through the city just me and my friend
Friday night special, professional tight aim
A gangsta is who you hearing
Me in my building with 20 bricks in the ceiling
I’m more real than, I got more scrill than
Got more skill than them there
I’m a Cash Money Millionaire
[Chorus]
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy
Hot, Hot, Hot Boy
[Lil Wayne]
Baby let me get the keys to the rover
No, let me get the keys to the house in Eastover
So I can throw a 500 Degreez platinum party
Than the after party
Me and my Squad stomping in this b_tch
F_ck a bachelor party
Don’t go to rapper parties I’m no rapper man
But when the homies come home we throw a monster jam
And all my people tote chrome we some monsters man
We gone mob to the promise land
I bought big I’m a Tymer man
Son of a Stunna still a girl f_ck with a hustler!
Weezy keep it gutter for ya Baby Bubba
Baby blue Mercedes Coupe Got it bullet proof
Make me shoot my 80 duke at your f_cking roof
You’re f_cking with a big dog, n_gga f_cking woof
Mr. S-F_cking-Q I’m the f_cking truth
Three stripes, baby nice, lot of ice f_cking ooohf!
That’s 500 Degreez!
[Chorus]
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
You don’t want to f_ck with Weezy
Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy
Hot, Hot, Hot Boy
B_tch get your mind right, B_tch get your mind right
