| It’s H-B Weezy Wee off the streets
|
| Stay deep 'Cedes Jeep big feet
|
| Gator seats polar bear floors
|
| I faithfully hold to pimp whores
|
| You ate with me and you gon get yours
|
| This eight with me that’s bullets through doors
|
| Got haze in me now I’m so tall
|
| Come blaze with me cuz Beaky got more
|
| And now or later I’m major player
|
| I ball right I need an agent player
|
| Ay ma you tight you need to page a player
|
| That’s so tonight you can taste a player
|
| I got the burner on the waist if you flinching
|
| My shit turning on 28-inches
|
| My shit burning like 500 plus
|
| And this album’s a three permer and a clutch
|
| 24/7 (Yes, sir)
|
| I go hard (Go hard, go hard, go hard)
|
| Not here
|
| I claim squad game till no more Wayne remain
|
| Bang my thing till no more lane remain
|
| Use the left lane man cook up the cocaine
|
| Dudes a lil game and get her to do brain
|
| That boy Weezy is a bad mother-feezy
|
| Me and Young Jazze at the back of one tweezy
|
| I’m so breezy off the Velvie and the perk
|
| Now I’m getting head on the balcony on Bourbon
|
| Apple and Eagle is the street that I shop
|
| The Birdman my daddy and we fly south
|
| And we don’t go to work man we get work out
|
| And the bricks may go as low as ten up in the drought
|
| Niggas is selling and you should be buying
|
| Niggas is telling and you should be dying
|
| Niggas is yelling Cash Money till they kill me
|
| C-M-B, I know you gotta feel me
|
| You know if I’m doing it I’m probably doing it for the block
|
| I’m out here bitch I got this here on lock
|
| Come out here bitch I bet this here gon pop
|
| I got ya slick this my year don’t knock
|
| Speakers from the front to the rear gon rock
|
| Wood-grain handles to steer it’s all hot
|
| I never drove factory and I don’t own stock
|
| I drop that bitch on chrome chops, yeah |