Låttexter: Dj Drama & Lil Wayne. Dedication 2: Gangsta Grillz. Sportscenter.

Cover my tracks like butter so where da bread be
I see beef as dead meat
Who dat, the president, yea me, no one scare me
And you ain't gotta double dare me, hear me
Loud and clearly, rats aren't near me
Wire tap, niggas get blood in the earpiece
I'm from New Orleans, nowhere near peace
Pure beast, fear free, dear grief
Catch up bitch, I'm in gear three, zoom, gone, see ya, peace, drop one on the finger
Fuck a man whoever made him
I will hurt whoever love him cause I hate him
Looking for a lady, high and sedated
Got her to the pad I don't know a nigga made it
She gave me relations so now we related
The morning comes, the picture faded
I'm waited on my turn to burn, can I get a light
Little dog, bigger bike
Jackson 5, Little Mike
Can I get a mic or a mic and a half
Thank the source owner, shoutout to the editors staff
I'm all grown so much better with math
I'm need a spread in the Forbes taking a benjamin bath
I'm servin this track, like Stephograph
Roger Federer, there's no competitors
Niggas know my rhetoric, bitch know my preference
Young GOD baby all you other niggas reverends
Sittin in my big house, surrounded by my weaponry
I keep them away like I got leprosy
Chopper right next to me, loaded up with Pepper seeds
Got an extra clip but that's only for my especially's
This is especially for you, disrespect a nigga game, what kinda referee is you?
Swallow ya whistle, make a nigga ride with the pistol
Cause the fakest niggas ride with the pistol
Even if I die old, I'ma die with the pistol
If you stand over my body, I'll probably kill you
Not really, Weezy da realest
I wear a lot of bathin ape cause I be with gorillas yeah
He what they talkin bout, topic of the conversation
Product of determination
Stop playin you are not up in my situation
I get money like a caucasian
The car red so the caucausin, stop hatin
Ya'll ballers I'ma sports agent
Wait a minute, let me translate it
It's Weezy, not the fatha motherfuckin baby