Lil' Wayne

Lil' Wayne - Inkredible

rate me

Inkredible Remix - Sorry 4 the Wait

[Thugga - Verse 1]

I pop some Percocets

Then I pop some Xanax

Sitting back, strapped, cocked

Plotting on your man next

Jack a nigga for his work

And stretch it like some Spandex

He hesitate, I spray and leave him

Like a Tampex – oops, I meant a Tampax

Bitch, I keep that anthrax

I can get your man wacked, for a couple Tan packs

Shoot off your Sedan lap

Nigga, I demand stacks

I ain’t playing, black

Bitch, I be spraying Macks

All type of guns with accessories

I’m like Cosby for the bills

I need mills like Stephanie

P-ssy niggas can’t stand next to me

I’ve got dope and ecstasy

Keep em floating like both of the levees breached

80s baby but my soul from the 70s

Worldwide game like a travelled the 7 seas

Niggas ain’t OG, scary lil bitch, please

Tune ate p-ssy in the can: Frisky

[Raw Dizzy]

I got 10 up on my pinky ring and 20 on my bracelet

Now these niggas kissing ass, but they can’t say shit

I’m just here to separate the real from the fake shit

I told you, I was coming n I’m sorry for the wait

I gotta get this money

Mane, it’s right here in my face

I got the Devil on my back

I don’t wanna be up in that place

My mom tell me to be safe

I just keep running in these streets

I can’t stop f-ckin with these hoes

But I say I’m just doing me

Bitch, I’m a 9th Ward nigga

Mason street, D&G

That Flordia right by the D they need to free my nigga B

I ain’t the type of person to be running from no beef

Those f-cking guns are gonna be bursting

Somebody knocked off their feet

So watch your f-cking mouth

Before you end up on that floor and stop

Acting like you’re hard cause

You know you’ve been a ho

I told you out the gate I’m not the fake

I gotta say it, please excuse

Almost forgot I’m all Dizzy by the way


Money over bitches, bitch I’m coming for the check

Vampire living, bitch I’m coming for your neck

Raw! I’m sharp, my swagger like an X

I’m a motherf-cking monster

I rap like I’m possessed

Call me Mr. Still Smoking, smoke it in a paper

The game is a bitch, hold her down and rape her

Yes I am a Blood but I be wylin’ with my skaters

We probably smoking flavors bumping Tyler the Creator

I’m a Eastside native, all my niggas Soo Woopin’

They went crazy when they heard I had a song

With Lil Tunechi, bitch!

Get some ice and pour my Sprite

And light my bong and my doobies

F-ck your producer

I’m the one that be producing my music

I’m a hippie surrounded by a lot of pot

Pot is in me

Drop ya like an Autobot

Sleeping on me like I’m rapping with a blanket

Kill a nigga have him thinking that he planking

[Lil Wayne]

All-red plaid shirt, skinny ass jeans on

Them goons at your front door, choppers out: “ding dong!”

Didn’t I change the game and put my motherf-cking team on

Now let my chopper ring

“Baka!” is my ringtone

F-ck you ho-ass niggas, I get money and get over hoes

We hold court with them heaters

“Pop!” case open/closed

Looking for a bitch to hop up on my totem pole

And my blunt be stupid-fat, double-stuffed – Oreos

I get loaded til I motherf-cking overload

Been rapping, flows still tight like aerobic’s clothes

Ask them bitches, I told em hoes

They back it up like Sunnydrive and Bronx Tale closure tho

Lighter in my pocket, light the sky rocket

Pull em hammers out and run them nigga’s like Stocktons

Got some niggas from my city

Thugga, Dizzy, Flow

Sorry 4 the Wait, coming soon, Carter IV, beyotch!

Thanks to jj. for correcting these lyrics

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