Lil Wayne — Ice Cream

[Intro] B-T-P, yah Is the AutoTune on? Hmhmm, good Mm [Verse] Young Money, syrup in the big shot Time to do the thing, that's word to your wristwatch Shoot the Glock 'til it burn, 'til my wrist lock Rims hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock H—Hold the gun sideways like O-Dog Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his nose off Make the girls say my name like a roll call Painkillers got a nigga 'bout to doze off Big shit, nigga, talk big shit, nigga Big bread, bread like a picnic, nigga Shake the whole game like the Hit-Stick, nigga Money spread like germs, get sick, nigga Yeah, and fuck them other niggas 1-900, who want it? I deliver Concrete shoes won't help in the river I don't care if you was Michael Phelps, my nigga I'm higher than the motherfucking Alps, my nigga I'm flyer than the motherfucking stealth, my nigga Y—Young Money shit, top shelf, my nigga We the motherfuckers, like MILF, my nigga Ahem, flow like syringes Yeah, I'm in my mode, got a code like Da Vinci's I was in the trenches, now I'm in the Trump And everybody watch your back when you're in the front You ain't never safe, stop playing with a gangsta Brang it to his face, and he ran like a flanker Bend the girl over, put her hands on her ankles I'm all over this "Ice Cream" beat like sprinkles "Why, thank you!"—if you's a hater I'm eating, you's a waiter Pistol on my hip, "Tomb Raider" Holler at your guala, zoom, later Young Tune, nigga; typhoon, nigga And if you think it's sweet, buy a room, nigga Damu, nigga, I'm on my gang shit She give me good brain like she studied at Cambridge Lighting up a motherfucking blunt Stupid-fruity swag like a motherfucking Runt And I be with my dog like a motherfucker hunt And every day of the week is the first of the month Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the face Can't tell the time 'cause the diamonds in the face We can get it popping like a semi-automatic And if you got beef, I put the biscuit on the patty Rockstar tatted, big-money addict Running this shit, now I'm feeling ath-lat-ic I—I'm on a boat, bitch, getting seasick Stop playing, I'm fresher than a Degree stick Street shit—well, of course I smoke mad weed, I'm on my high horse Please, don't shoot me down, I land feet flat Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back Haha! I need a massage And when it come to hoes, man, I got a collage Finger on the button, nigga, just stuntin' If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me nothing Kush so strong, you can smell me coming Bitch, I go hard like the boy from "300" You think y'all kick it, well, boy, we punting Young Money, baby, we the shit, weak stomachs No Ceilings, motherfucker