Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Inkredible, artist - Lil Wayne. Album song Gone Till November, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.01.2014
Record label: Harlem king entertainment
Song language: English
Inkredible |
Tha Truth back, let’s get to business |
It’s something unfamiliar |
Call it a foreign image |
Paint heavily leaking |
I guess it wasn’t finished |
Riding with something freaky |
They tell me she the business |
The chain clear, stones never cloudy |
60 rats or better, nigga ask about me |
Certified gangster, please don’t ever doubt me |
Welcome to the streets |
You can’t get in without me |
I’m Presidential, Obama painted the Vogues black |
Chopper in the Chevy, top rollin' back |
My life a motion picture, bitch I ain’t gotta act |
I send em to your section, nigga hold that |
It’s raining scattered bullets |
Too late to run for cover, I drain em like Kobe |
Then I evacuate to the gutter |
On something that’s pokey with looks |
And a trunk they’d like to stutter |
I rank as the king of the city |
It ain’t gon be another |
(Inkredible, inkredible, inkredible, inkredible…) |
I’m sending shots, it’s happy hour |
I shoot from close range, I’m a need a shower |
Brains in the sink, body on the counter |
Women and the kids, leave em how I found em |
I’m a real nigga, stand still nigga |
I’ll cut your face, have you lookin like Seal nigga |
Then I pull your card, then I deal with you |
Gamble with your life, is this your lucky night |
My bitch so fucking right, every night I fuck her twice |
Big boy money bitch, pockets on Charlie Wise |
Tatted up, I’m scarred for life |
Tell the cops I know all my rights |
Got choppas I don’t mean Harley bikes |
Drop em like a bag of ice |
Shades dark, flag bright |
Wallet chain, chrome horse |
Hair to the fucking back, call that shit, Rosa Parks |
Dr. Carter, man I gave hip-hop open heart |
Young Money baby aka Noah’s Ark |
And I’m Noah! |
YOUNG MULA BABY |
My money long, my temper short |
My cars foreign, my dick a boss |
The guns new, the beef old |
It’s time to come through like never before |
Liquid C4, look at me ho |
Look into my eyes do you see a C.O. |
I’m talking kilo’s, time to reload |
Map fout ou deyo — «Shut the fuck up» in Creole |
Bitch I’m paid up, get ya weight up |
Peel the top back reel the shades up |
I got them automatics so you know I’m automatic |
All my auto’s automatic you know that’s automatic |
What you niggas want to see |
Don’t get caught in the street |
I got G’s that’ll wait for a quarter key, nigga |
I’m living nigga |
Fuck the critics nigga (fuck em) |
Shit is serious nigga |
You hear the lyrics nigga (Yep!) |
It’s Ricky nigga |