Lyrics What You Sayin - DJ E-Feezy, Lil Wayne

What You Sayin

Hit you with no delaying so what you sayin' yo
Niggas ain’t paying so I just been laying low
I’m all about famo like Marlon Brando
My bitch go commando, I’m in command though
I hit you with ammo, quick as a Lambo
I play with her pussy hole like flipping channels
And my bitches is too live like Luther Campbell
And I’m spitting this shit though like I chew tobacco
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 get the white and put it out;
Em & Dre
I’ma fuck her sisters and her mom;
Kim & Ye
They respect all my artistry like Hemingway
And they respect all of my martians, that’s why they give me space
Muthafucka now you see what’s up in my hand so what you sayin woe?
Cause I put yo fuckin' brains all on the dashboard
You not in my fuckin' lane you on the crash course
And if you feelin' froggy leap, I’m kidnapping yo tadpoles
I can’t remember the bitch name I fucked after my last show
When I say my cash low, I’m just telling a bad joke
Long hair, don’t care, no shirt like Fabio
Little nigga dreadlocks with a dick with an afro
(Woo-hah!) I got you all in check
I make her (Woo-hah!) and now she on my breath
I’m with my Goombah, we ridin' on your set
And we can shoot out 'till 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 motherfuckas, you ain’t dead, fake ya death
I ain’t playing, I’ma hit you with no delaying and I ain’t paying ho
I come through me and my woes looking like Camp Lo
This is it, what?
Luchini falling from the sky
Let’s get rich what?
Boy, I been rich since 95'
Where you been boy?
Money talks and I’m about to send a invoice to them boys
Yeah I’m tried of this bullshit, I’m wilding, I’m too lit
I aim at yo toothpick, leave yo brains in yo boo tits
Yeah, I’m tied up with feds, put some guap on yo head
Now they can’t find your body, like the sock in the bed
This is it, boy, you done dug yourself a hole
That’s a pit, boy, that’s where I shit, boy
Uh, type of a nigga that’ll slap you with the tooley-o
It ain’t about what you smoke, it’s about who you smoke
My homeboy Hoody, yo, he real moody, yo
I tell him no bullet folks, he still do it tho'
They give you a funeral, you won’t be viewable
When Tunechi come 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 than Connie Chung
They don’t fuck with us cuz they know that we not the ones
Boy, we got them guns, scare the holy shit out the nuns
Yo, it’s young money, my nigga, you know we bout to bust
And everybody armed, more armed than Octopus
Write my name on my cups, so nigga know not to touch
Every time I bust a rhyme, another one bites the dust
Tunechi!
Busta, fuck wit me!