Lil Wayne — Cannon

[Produced by DJ Don Cannon] [Intro: Lil Wayne, DJ Drama, & DJ drops] Yeah AMG's the gang! Dedication 2 Drama Pay attention! (Gangsta Gri-Zillz!) [Verse 1: Lil Wayne, DJ Drama, & DJ drops] Howdy-do, motherfuckers, it's Weezy Baby Niggas bitching and I gotta tote the (My nigga Don Cannon!) Haha! Listen close, I got duct tape and rope (Oh!) I leave you missing like the fucking O'bannons One hand on my money, one hand on my buddy That's the AK-47, make his neighborhood love me Bullets like birds, you can hear them bitches humming Don't let that bird shit, he got a weak stomach Niggas know I'm sick: I don't spit, I vomit—got it? One egg short of the omelet Simon says: "Shoot a nigga in his thigh and leg And tell him, 'Catch up,' like mayonnaise"; um— I'm the sickest nigga doing it—bet that, baby These other niggas dope; I'm wet crack, baby, yes! Get back, get back, boy, this a setback Clumsy-ass niggas slip and fall into a death trap Them boys pussy, born without a backbone And if you strapped, we can trade like the Dow Jones Wet him up, I hope he got his towel on I aim at the moon, and get my howl on Some niggas cry wolf, I'm on that dry kush And when it come to that paper, I stack books ha You heard what I said I can put you on your feet or put some money on ya head Life ain't cheap, you better off dead if you can't pay the fee Shout out my nigga Fee See, every motherfucker at the door don't get a key You're outside looking in, so tell me what you see It's about money, it's bigger than me I told my homies, "Don't kill him, bring the nigga to me" (Gangsta!) Yeah, don't miss, you fucking with the hitman Kidnap a nigga, make him feel like a kid again [Chorus: Lil Wayne] Straight up, I ain't got no conversation for you Nigga, talk to the (Cannon!) Yeah, have a few words with the (Cannon!) Yeah, tell it to my motherfucking (Cannon!) Yeah, straight up, I ain't got no conversation for you Nigga, talk to the (Cannon!) Yeah, have a few words with the (Cannon!) Nigga, tell it to my motherfucking (Cannon!) [Verse 2: Freeway] From Philly to where I'm landing, I'm a (Cannon!) And I'm on that Philly fighting shit, and I come fully equipped You try me, get bodied, keep Nina and shotty in the whip If a nigga try to stick me, I'ma blam him Sing along now—"Di-di-dadi," I'm Free, got the burners Got the green, he got the tan, got the whole enchilada Owe me dough, I'm inside of your house, tie up your brother (Woo) Make the prick call up your mother (Ugh), she might know where to find you, I am— On top of my job, the heavyweight champ with the flow It's flow like the ocean, open water, you're drowning, I will (Damn) Four-pound him and seek him, heat him, then leave him stinking (Yuh) Sharks surround him and eat him, nice to know him, I will— (Yeah) Roll over your squad like I'm "One-Punch" Carr You chumps, you best call General Motors, I will— (Ugh) Take control of your soldiers, you won't miss 'em 'Til I toss em in the wok like chicken, General Tso, uh-oh! [Verse 3: Willie the Kid] I make it hard for rap niggas, I'm peer pressure (Yes) Matter of fact I'm motivation to rap better (Yes) I show niggas how to act, how to dress better I stay fresh, more fitted caps than bad catchers (Woo) I'm the crack, the smack, the gun, the rule The gat, the strap, the gun, the tool The motherfucking (Cannon!) Other words, I'm the real, for real We can go check for check or bill for bill We can go chick for chick or skill for skill The deal is sealed (Yes) Niggas ain't real as Will, 'cause I'm a (Cannon!) And I handle well, pedal like Cannondale And I got the 50-cal' mag, its a handheld (Cannon!) I'm telling you niggas, I pop, put a shell in you niggas (Oh) My nice watch'll Helen Keller you niggas (Oh, oh) I got whores in the Canon camcorder bendin' over Blowing 'ghan by the quarter, weed odor in the Rover, nigga [Verse 4: Detroit Red] Yeah (Cannon!) Detroit Red getting change like them white folks (Ha) Dump it out the window of the Range with the rifle (Ha) Pain like a bitch like the first day of a cycle (Ha) You better scurry when I pull the (Cannon! Ha) Tracks burn the streets like a truck do the gas I love head and caressing a voluptuous ass (What else?) I ask ya baby mama is she up to the task She like "Damn Red, it's bigger than a (Cannon!)" My attire makes the ladies say, "Your man is too fly" (What else?) Imported oils from Iran and Dubai (What else?) Get caught slipping with your mans, and you die Where I'm from, niggas be quick to squeeze the (Cannon! Ha) Detroit Red always got some shit for your ears Show me love, but keep it moving, man, 'cause if you get near (Ha) I'll say, "Get off my dick" and tell your bitch to come here 'Cause you sweating me and my DJ, Don (Cannon!) [Verse 5: Juice] Legs spread far out, you know how I'm standing Yeah, I'm posted with the big homie (Cannon! Ha) I got niggas who don't like rap loving our shit We got niggas who was stuck on Pac bumping our shit These niggas can't see me like I ain't been around lately A good batter; when they at the mound, it's gravy Niggas salty, I'm pepper, no Spinderella Just a cigarillo filled with Tropicana Yeah, Vic found that lick; now, we ain't smoking no more regular Keep your mid-grade, I don't think you know no better They loved "In Da Trunk"; now, they wanna hear more shit I play it modest, like, "Nigga, that's some of our old shit" Got niggas I ain't never met wanting to fight me Got hoes that's in love, asking, "Why you don't like me?" Bitch, I'm married to the game, and I love my wifey Stepping over competition, man, I love these Nikes (Yeah) I'm hot, they fanning Niggas try to copy my style like the (Cannon! Ha) Don't try to compare—I'm in a league of my own If I ain't listed at the top, nigga, the stats is wrong All the data is off, your info ain't valid Artist of the century, the competition ain't balanced True, like Master P and his two brothers Don't call it incest, but Juice the motherfucker, like— geah! [Outro: DJ Drama] This what I'ma do! From here on out, you can call me Mr. Game Seven! Oh, yeah! That was just preseason! You thought we was playing for real?