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Lil Wayne
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500 Degreez
作词:Dwayne Carter, Byron Thomas
It's the real shit, yeah 500 degreez this time bitch You already know
You see me? I eat, sleep, shit and talk snaps so fuck rap Man I got weed, pills, pistols, or crack Bitch niggas, 'Where ya hearts at?' Ya'll ain't stuntin' like us bitch niggas, 'Where ya cars at?'
They like Wayne why the fuck you dressed in all black? I'm 'bout to bring CMR back And all the lames, we done lost that
Now all we got is weezy, weezy, and lil' weezy to fall back I'm 'bout to lock it from the summer to the fall and back 'It's weezy baby!' the boy is back And the wheels on my car you got a order 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 shit on them cats I get on them cats fresh and 'B' it's all a rap If I'm the only hot boy then what do you call that?
You don't want to fuck with weezy You don't want to fuck with weezy
Bitch what? I'll bust ya ass up Don't even go that round niggas get your cash up We probably need to clash up, this shit got me 'bout to ass up They finding niggas in they shit with they ass up
It ain't October thirty first but we gone mask up And guess what aye, you know I heard they got some nice chains And for the right price I'll bust the right brain And mommy hot 'cause I pull up in that white thang
Oh, but ya nigga might be fly but I still get trifling Riding through the city just me and my flame Friday night special professional tight thang 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网
A gangsta is who you hearing I'm in my building with twenty 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, bitch
You don't want to fuck with weezy You don't want to fuck with weezy Hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy Hot, hot, hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy
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 my squad stomping in this bitch
Fuck a kappa 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 ball big, I'm a tymer man Son of a stunna steady girl fuck with a hustler
Weezy keep it gutter for ya baby bubba Baby blue mercedes coupe got it bullet proof Make me shoot my eighty duke at your fucking roof
You're barkin' with a big dog, nigga fucking roof Mr. S fuckin' Q I'm the fuckin' truth Three stripes, baby nice, lot of ice bucket ooohf That's 500 degreez
You don't want to fuck with weezy You don't want to fuck with weezy 500, 500, 500, 500 degreez
Bitch get your mind right Bitch get your mind right Bitch get your mind right
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