Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Uproar, artist - Lil Wayne. Album song Tha Carter V, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.09.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Young Money
Song language: English
Uproar |
(Weezy, Weezy, Weezy, Weezy |
Weezy, Weezy, Weezy, Weezy) |
I see, thank you man, thank you |
Y’all know his name |
Ayo, Mack, let the beat drop |
Ladies and gentlemen, C5, Wayne time |
Yeah, yeah, yeah |
Zone, zone, zone, zone, zone |
Let me see your shoulders work |
I mean, I don’t know what y’all came here to do, but, uh |
If you ain’t got a lighter, what the fuck you smoking for? |
We hot! |
(Haaa) |
What the fuck, though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, I let one go |
Bow! |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
Aimin' at your head like a buffalo |
You a roughneck, I’m a cutthroat |
You’re a tough guy, that’s enough jokes |
Then the sun die, the night is young though |
The diamonds still shine in the rough, ho |
What the fuck though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, where the ones go? |
It’s a shit show, put you front row |
Talkin' shit, bro? |
Let your tongue show |
Money over bitches, and above hoes |
That is still my favorite love quote |
Put the gun inside, what the fuck for? |
I sleep with the gun, and she don’t snore |
What the fuck, yo? |
Where the love go? |
Trade the ski mask for the muzzle |
It’s a blood bath, where the suds go? |
It’s a Swizz beat, there the drums go |
If she’s iffy, there the drugs go |
If she sip lean, double-cup toast |
I got a duffle full of hundos |
There the love go, where’s the uproar? |
What the fuck though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, I let one go |
Bow! |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
Aimin' at your head like a buffalo |
What the fuck though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, I let one go |
Bow! |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
Aimin' at your head like a buffalo |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
I come out the scuffle without a scuff, woah |
Puff, puff, bro; |
I don’t huff though |
Yellow diamonds up close, catch a sunstroke |
At your front door with a gun stowed |
«Knock, knock. |
Who’s there?» |
is how it won’t go |
This the jungle, so have the utmost |
For the nutzos, and we nuts, so |
What the fuck, bro? |
It’s where I’m from, bro |
We grow up fast, we roll up slow |
We throw up gang signs, she throw up dope |
Dreadlock hang down like you dun know |
Put the green in the bag like a lawnmower |
Hair trigger pulled back like a cornrow |
Extra clip in the stash like a console |
Listenin' to Bono, you listen to Donald |
What the fuck, bro? |
Where the love go? |
Swizzy he the chef, I like my lunch gross |
Just look up, bro, there the Scuds go |
I see the shovel, but where did bruh go? |
Hmm, to the unknown |
Only way he comin' back is through his unborns |
If you see what’s in my bag, think I’m a drug lord |
It’s empty when I give it back, now where’s the uproar? |
What the fuck though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, I let one go |
Bow! |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
Aimin' at your head like a buffalo |
What the fuck though? |
Where the love go? |
Five, four, three, two, I let one go |
Bow! |
Get the fuck though, I don’t bluff, bro |
Aimin' at your head like a buffalo |