Lil Wayne — Young Money Property

[Verse 1: Curren$y] Curren$y the hot spitter Fast life, slow slow Lost a couple, that ain't shit, I got more Bank so easy, niggas you know me Bitches talk sideways get smacked the fuck up I'm a pimp, but I don't move with a pimp cup I'd rather keep my drinks in a thermos Told yall before I was an advanced learner Cops tryna send me off to camp like Ernest Yeah, but I ain't going for that walk Fuck around with me and I just let that gat talk Yeah, I'mma let that heat spray Right where you standing that's where you gone lay Still play it cool, get off the streets Cops came to the house, moms told them I was sleep Cause she memorized the script to a tee Told them that I had the flu and I was in the bed for weeks Yeah, another victim of a murderer Got your family running asking people have they heard of ya All over, putting up posters Like you got an album about to drop But there ain't nothing bout to drop but that casket Label me a bastard even though I know my pops, yeah Rap game said I fell off the scene Though I'm coming back like I forgot my keys, yeah [Verse 2: Boo] It's a shame how I gotta duck shots From these hating ass niggas and these crooked ass cops Fuck it, it just make me grind harder Now I'm signed to young Carter P89 be the answers to the my problem Benchwarmers getting mad, I'm a starter Number 1 draft pick, laughing in a black 6 Talk big shit and still turn bricks like back flips Young Money be the circle that I ride fo' Nigga we live to stay fly on you ass holes It ain't a doubt, I'mma rep that Chicago But I got so much love for the south Where the women be most thick and give great mouth And love all the shit that a thug be 'bout Now let these things ling out YM bitch, now it's time to bang out [Verse 3: Mack Maine] Gorilla with the flow, nigga finna blow Ice everywhere, chinchilla to the flo' Escalade trucks with the chromed out buggy Type of shit I got since the nigga got paid Nigga gained a little weight but the hoes still love me Still let a nigga put the dick to they face Run up in your crib, put the burner to your face Leave the scene with out a trace at a earn hard pace But no I ain't bail, I ain't tryna hit the wall Tryna mack a little broad and get her back to the place Yo man trip, I show 'em what the Ruger hold Catch a flight to Jayville, can't miss the Super Bowl Then it's back to the hood cause I love the streets Better find Noah's Ark, bout to flood the streets Young Money, that's the clan Young Maine, I'm the man Getting money is the plan The Rugers don't jam [Verse 4: Lil' Wayne] Weezy F. kinda nice with the Glock But I'm better than that with the rock Tryna land me a spot at the Roc And my city got word of that Niggas want me to hook them up with Fox I done got young Mal off the block Now the haters don't know where he at Tryna do the same thing for Cap- That's my young brother, he got shop If a nigga try to jack Then we coming back like Hip-Hop Got the bullets coming out the pump Running through your stomach back like a Running Back I ain't got the Emmitt Smith bitch I got the Dorset AR-33 shooting like a Cowboy Tryna see red skin, bitch I'm fly, I'm sky born Young Ozzy Osbourne floating like the cloud boy Got them bitches pilled up, blowing like a plow truck With they fucking mouths up, south up!