Lil' Wayne - What You Sayin lyrics

rate me

Ft. Dj E-Feezy

(Intro)

You can't stop greatness!

How you gon' start reinventing the game

When we invented the game?

Dj E-Feezy

The Wolf of South Beach

The Album!

(Hook)

Hit ya wit no delayin' so what ya saying yo

Niggas ain't payin' so I just been layin' low

I'm all about famo like Marlin Brando

My bitch go commando, I'm in command tho'

I hit ya ammo, quick as a Lambo

I play wit her pussy hole like flippin' channels

And my bitches is too live like Luther Campbell

And I'm spitting this shit tho', like I chew tobacco

(Verse)

Shimmy shimmy ya shimmy yay

I'ma kick a nigga in his mouth, MMA

I'ma stick a semi in his mouth, kissy face

I'ma lose the weight in the drought, Ricki Lake

I'ma put get the white and put it out, Em and Dre

I'ma fuck her sisters and 'er mum, Kim and Ye

They respect all my artistry like Hemingway

And they respect all of my Martians

That's why they give me space muthafucka

Know ya see what's up in my hand so what ya saying wooo

Cos' I put yo fucking brains all on the dashboard, oh!

Ya not in my fucking lane ya on the crash course

And ya feeling froggy leap I'm kidnappin' yo tadpoles

I can't remember the bitch name I fucked after my last show

When I say my cash low I'm just tellin' a bad joke

Long hair don't care, no shirt like Fabio

Lil nigga dread locks wit a dick wit an afro

(oh ah) I got ya all in check

I make her (Ooh Ahh) and now she on my breath

I'm wit my goon by, we riding on yo set

And we can shoot out til' it's quiet on the set

Boo-ya like Stu Scott and peace up where he rest

Bitch I'm groundbreaking and I'm taking baby steps

I'm about to bust a rhyme, nod yo head and break ya neck!

I'ma kill these muthafuckers, ya ain't dead, fake ya death

I ain't playin', I'ma hit ya wit no delayin' and I ain't paying, hoe

I come thru' me and my woes looking like camp lo

This is a what? Gucci fallin' from the sky

Let's get rich what? Boy, I been rich since 1995

Where ya been boy

Money talks and I'm about to send a invoice to them boys

Yea I'm tried of this bullshit

I'm wylin' I'm 2 lit

I aim at yo toothpick, leave yo brains in yo boot tips

Yeah, I'm tied up and fair, put some gwop on yo head

Now they can't find yo body, like the sack in the bed

This is it, bwoy, you done dug yoself a hole

That's a pit, bwoy, that's white shit, bwoy

Uh, type o'nigga that'll slap you with the tooley-oh

It ain't about what you smoke, it's about who you smoke

A homeboy hoody, yo, he real moody, yo

I tell him dont bully folks, he still do it tho'

They give you a funeral, you won't be viewable

I told ya get thru' the door, them hoes get super soaked

Now do you really wanna party with me?

Let me sees whatcha got fo' me

Aye, do you really wanna party with me?

In Squad we trust! Puffin' on that stuff, eyes low

Lower than Connie Chung(?)

They don't fuck with us cuz they know that we not the ones

Boy, we got them guns, get a-holing shit out from none

Yo, it's young money, my nigga, you know we bout to bust

And everybody armed, more armed than Octopus

Spray my name on my cups, so nigga know not to touch

Every time I bust a rhyme, anotha one bites the dust

Tunechi!

(Outro)

Dj E-Feezy

Mula!

Bust the bust, fuck with me!

Y'already know what it is, man