Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fly Out, artist - Lil Wayne. Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Fly Out |
| We here |
| I said we here |
| The back of Tha Carter |
| The back of Tha Carter… Two…Ooooh |
| Yea… This here is… the end of Tha Carter Two people |
| HEY! |
| HaHa. |
| Yea |
| I got the game on ball and chain |
| I threw the key in the train |
| I’m like the key in the truck |
| I spent a G on these frames, though my vision is priceless |
| Seeing through you niggaz like a fuckin psychic |
| Hearing through the grapevine, niggaz wanna hate mine |
| Say my name and die in the daytime |
| You catch my drift, man you better be Peyton |
| Boy the heats on, they make a peace bond |
| I’m in this bitch, throwing up the seventeenth sign |
| Straight frowns, no daps, strapped three times |
| A Tec-11, AK 47, one Beretta, ready for whatever |
| Tell them pussy niggaz come together |
| Heavy wetter, nigga super soaker wetter, nigga |
| Six feet under flowers, you ain’t nothing but a petal nigga |
| I’m just a little nigga, trying to be a civil nigga |
| Thirty years old, shit that’ll be a different nigga |
| Quit it Wayne, your Mom is listenin |
| But she ain’t really trippin, 'cause the pots is piston |
| Them niggaz trippin, until the shots whistling' |
| Hear them bullets sizzle, like a cobra at attention |
| I gotta bitch, and quit callin women bitches |
| As long as she don’t worry 'bout the coke in the kitchen |
| No preventing the crime, I gotta get it |
| I’m admitted to the game, true playa, no quittin |
| There you go shittin on a way a nigga thinkin |
| Only history I know is Benjamin Franklin |
| This is the future and crime is to no one |
| I live everyday like this is the sure one |
| Train in the tidal wave, this is the ocean |
| Stand in the heat, 'til the mother fuckin snow come |
| And it feels so fuckin good |
| Throw my dope like a rope, let them tug and pull |
| No hope for the hopeless, rats and roaches |
| Runnin cross the porch, in the attic there’s a fortune |
| Come and get it, automatics in motion |
| We bangin for the bread nigga, even the molded |
| I got my loaf, I got my toast |
| Chaperone of the south, I got my coast. |
| Yea |