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    [Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
    I got a whole lotta money, pop that pussy for me
    My homie got that yopper, he'll bang it at a copper
    Ay, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party!
    Stove on my waist, cook your ass up, gourmet
    All-black .44, do you want foreplay?
    I'm going at your face like Oil of Olay
    No champagne, but you know my flag Rose
    Swagger on steroids: Canseco, Jose
    No Limit Records: We so 'bout it 'bout it
    I'm higher than a bitch, feel like I climbed a fucking mountain
    Illest nigga you know, my accountant's still counting
    Shot hit him a minute ago but his body's still bouncing
    Beam on the hammer, beam on your forehead
    Gotta kill the witnesses cause Birdman car red
    Hollygrove Monster, Eagle Street creature
    Come to your funeral, kill everybody but the preacher
    I live in Miami, nigga, I'll South Beach ya
    Robin Leach, uh, that's how we ballin'
    You know that I'm loaded, but please don't think its sweeter
    Beat one of you bitch niggas up like John Cena
    Them hoes on Young Money, tell them hoes we coming
    Boy, we get it popping, we ain't saving hoes, we swapping
    Yeah, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party!
    Big head Desert Eagle, call it "shotty"
    How'd you get that money? Stunna taught me that
    That Xan took me under, patron brought me back
    I'm leaning on you muthafuckers like I caught a flat
    And that Glock snap back like an old Starter hat
    What the lick read? I'm in the big league
    I'm a breath of fresh air "Let the bitch breathe!"
    I'm trying to chillax but I had to do it, dev
    I'm at the funeral like "I had to do it, rev!"
    Mack you my big brother, I split a wig for you
    Put that on their repeat until they bury me
    Moment of clarity: yeah, that's my diamond game
    I keep a fine bitch cause I like the finer things
    Fuck with me slime
    No brain on the whip, I've got nothing in mind
    Carter 4, they ain't fucking with mine
    I drop that Sorry 4 the Wait to make up for the time

    [Verse 2: Lil B]
    Yeah I do my thang, bitch what's up?
    Young Based God, came in with the ballers
    Iced out chain, bitch, I'm rich off that same shit
    Sixty-five hoes on my dick, bitch, it's Christmas
    Straight Westside, Bay Area bitch, I'll grave em
    Pretty boy shit, Based God from the Angeles
    On like a cradle and you niggas can't stop me
    Shouts out to Mack Maine getting rich and cocky
    Bitch it's still West side, shouts out to Weezy
    Young Based God with that 55 heater
    187 bitch, I pull a 2-11 bitch
    With that tiny shirt mane and the tiny pants mane
    I'm on Based World and I fuck with, Cash Money niggas
    Don't understand, Maine, they gang like a chain
    Woo woo! Swag, bitch, Brang-dang-dang-dang
    Off the top, I'm a Wolfpack hitter
    Man, my life just a painting and I paint you a picture, mane
    Think about it: a young paid-ass nigga
    This that stuntin' music; bitch, I just do's it
    It's Lil B and I'll muthafuckin prove it

    Letra enviada por D2HERMANO
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    É permitida somente a visualização no site das letras de músicas encontradas aqui, vedada sua reprodução através de quaisquer outros meios (Lei 9610/98).Todas as letras de músicas são propriedade dos seus respectivos autores e divulgadas somente para fins educacionais.All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics are provided for educational purposes only.