Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Outro, artist - Saigon.
Date of issue: 25.08.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Outro |
This song right here, |
Is dedicated to the president of the United States of America |
Y’all might know him as George Bush |
But where I’m from, |
Lost city of New Orleans, we call him this |
(Georgia) |
Now |
This song is dedicated to the one wit the suit |
Thick white skin and his eyes bright blue |
So called beef wit you know who |
Fuck it he just let him kill all of our troops |
Look at the bullshit we been through |
Had the niggas sitting on top they roofs |
Hurricane Katrina, we should’ve called it Hurricane (Georgia) Bush |
Then they telling y’all lies on the news |
The white people smiling like everything cool |
But I know people that died in that pool |
I know people that died in them schools |
Now what is the survivor to do? |
Got to no trailer, you gotta move |
Now it’s on to Texas and to (Georgia) |
They tell you what they want, show you what they want you to see |
But they don’t let you know what’s really going on |
Make it look like a lot of stealing going on |
Boy them cops is killers in my home |
Nigga shot dead in the middle of the street |
I ain’t no thief, I’m just trying to eat |
Man fuck the police and president (Georgia) Bush |
So what happened to the levees, why wasn’t they steady |
Why wasn’t they able to control this? |
I know some fok' that live by the levee |
That keep on telling me they heard the explosions |
Same shit happened back in Hurricane Betsy |
1965, I ain’t too young to know this |
That was President Johnson but now |
But it’s president (Georgia) Bush |
We from a town where (Georgia) |
Everybody drowned, and |
Everybody died, but baby I’m still praying which ya |
Everybody crying but (Georgia) |
Ain’t nobody tried, there’s no doubt on my mind it was (Georgia) Bush |
Now |
I was born in the boot at the bottom of the map |
New Orleans baby, now the white house hating, trying to wash away like we not |
on the map |
Wait, have you heard the latest, they saying you gotta have paper if you trying |
to come back |
Niggas thinking it’s a wrap, see we can’t hustle in they trap, we ain’t from |
(Georgia) |
Now it’s them dead bodies, them lost houses, the mayor say don’t worry 'bout it |
And the children have been scarred, no one’s here to care 'bout 'em |
And fash out, to all the rappers that helped out |
Yea we like it they calling y’all, but fuck president (Georgia) Bush |
We see them Confederate flags, you know what it is |
A white cracker motherfucker that probably voted for him |
And no he ain’t gonna drop no dollars, but he do drop bombs |
R.I.P. |
Tay cause he died in the storm, fuck president (Georgia) Bush |
See us in ya city man, give us a pound |
Cause if a nigga still moving then he holding it down |
I had two Jags, but I lost both them bi-tch-es |
I’m from N.O. |
the N.O. |
Yea! |
We from a town where (Georgia) |
Everybody drowned, and |
Everybody died, but baby I’m still praying which ya |
Everybody crying but (Georgia) |
Ain’t nobody tried, there’s no doubt on my mind it was (Georgia) Bush |
(oh yea, you thought we was done? Naw) |
YEA! |
Money money money get a dollar and a dick |
Weezy Baby that crack, motherfucker get a fix |
Got money out the ass, no homo but I’m rich |
Bout to go get surgery and put some diamonds on my wrist YES |
Yep, I’m a motherfucking trip |
I’ma trip to Japan and buy some brand new shit |
Nine hundred to a grand, get you twenty eight grams |
If you talking 'bout bricks, I’m the interstate man |
And the women say damn, them niggas don’t say a damn thing |
Boy I bet that shotty make you bounce like a bed-spring |
Walking a thin line, gotta defend mine |
And wit no pen I’m sorta like a bomb BOOM |
Young toon, yea that’s what my people call me |
Fifty thousand for the cross, trying to keep the reaper off me |
I drink a lot of syrup, bitches say I’m sleep walking |
Big money for the grill, so I’m never cheap talking, yea |
Keep talking and the flame leap off the hip |
And keep sparking, pap pap sleep softly |
Yea, nap nap, nap sack, three forties |
Like fuck another nigga, nigga just don’t be the target |
Young New Orleans nigga, nigga just don’t be retarded |
We done lost everything and you looking like a bargain |
Purple weed, purple drink, purple heart sergeant |
I’m the best rapper in the game no arguing (arguing) |
And I don’t even write, pause |
Un-pause this, so keep ya bitch ass lines inside the margin |
Lil Wayne dot com bitch log in |
Put a pillow under your knees and keep ya jaws in |
All in ya girl mouth, use her like a toilet |
They usually want a baller and the young nigga balling |
Mike Jordan, pardon my swaggy |
Even my father rich as fuck and all my brothers left the family |
We said fuck it bought two houses in Miami |
I can’t wait to do cribs, MTV c’mon get at me |
Any rapper wan get at me, tell ya label contact me |
Half four hundred for a feature, wanna battle, I’ll beat ya |
I’m a beast, I’m a creature, I’m the son of miss cita |
My dukes, my jeter, she the reason, she the reason |
Everybody woman wanna beat a boy diva, not even |
There’s a 305 dime I wanted ever since I seen her |
Got a topic of this evening, hotter than a tub steaming |
Gotcha girlfriend dreaming of one day being Trina |
Notta sip seemer, ten ki’s in the Beamer |
Got a white girl driving, couldn’t do it much cleaner |
I’m fly in the sky like that motherfucking ribbon |
Bitches got my name on em, and the nigga still living |
Spend a condo and a club, one bottle won’t do |
Two bottles won’t do, bottles for the whole crew, thanks |
And bring me that Patrone, I don’t play |
No ice I like my drink straight, not gay |
And bitch that bank come everyday, I’m paid |
I wish a nigga come invade, get sprayed |
I stomp a nigga out like I got ten legs |
Then they fish the nigga up out the lake in ten days |
Behave, no ho, I’m on that Rage Rov |
Cash Money, Young Money, ho that money age old |
And can’t a cage hold this animal from Hollygrove |
Sorry mami I be stoned, I be, I be, I be blowed |
Got me copy rock star, Weezy Baby fuck these hos |
Gotta pay me now for me to even take these hos |
Price sizing for a show and the flow |
So either Drama is my nigga, or that boy got doe |
Go figure that’s my nigga, that’s my nigga, my nerve |
If anybody else want it, sixty thousand a verse |
(oh yea, you thought we was done? Naw) |
Yea! |
Money money money get a dollar and a dick |
Weezy Baby that crack, muthafucka get a fix |
Got money out the ass, no homo but I’m rich |
Bout to go get surgery and put some diamonds on my wrist |
Yes, Yep, I’m a muthafucking trip |
Ima trip to Japan and buy some brand new shit |
Nine hundred to a grand, get you twenty eight grams |
If you talking 'bout bricks, I’m the interstate man |
And the women say damn, them niggas don’t say a damn thing |
Boy I bet that shotty make you bounce like a bed-spring |
Walkin a thin line, gotta defend mine |
And wit no pen I’m sorta like a bomb BOOM |
Young tune, yea that’s what my people call me |
Fifty thousand for the cross, trying keep the reaper off me |
I drink a lotta syrup, bitches say I’m sleep walkin |
Big money for the grill, so I’m never cheap talking, yea |
Keep talking and the flame leap off the hip |
And keep sparking, pap pap sleep softly |
Yea, nap nap, nap sack, three forties |
Like fuck another nigga, nigga just don’t be da target |
Young New Orleans nigga, nigga just don’t be retarded |
We done lost everything and you looking like a bargain |
Purple weed, purple drink, purple heart sergeant |
I’m the best rapper in the game no arguing |
And I don’t ever write, pause |
Un-pause this, so keep ya bitch ass lines inside the margin |
Lil Wayne dot com bitch log in |
Put a pillow under your knees and keep ya jaws in |
All in ya girl mouth, use her like a toilet |
They usually want a baller and the young nigga balling |
Mike Jordan, pardon my swaggie |
But my father rich as fuck and all my brothers left the family |
We said fuck it bought two houses in Miami |
I can’t wait to do cribs, MTV c’mon get at me |
Any rapper wan get at me, tell ya label contact me |
Dats a hundred for a feature, wanna battle, I’ll beat ya |
I’m a beast, I’m a creature, I’m the son of miss cita |
Mom dukes, my jeter, she the reason, she the reason |
Everybody woman wanna beat a boy diva, not even |
There’s a 305 diamond I wanted ever since I seen her |
Got a topic of this evening, hotter than a tub steaming |
Gotcha girlfriend dreaming of one day being Trina |
Notta sim seemer, ten ki’s in the Beamer |
Got a white girl driving, couldn’t do it much cleaner |
I’m fly in the sky like that muthafuckin ribbon |
Bitches got my name on em, and the nigga still living |
Spend a condo and a club, one bottle won’t do |
Two bottles won’t do, bottles for the whole crew, thanks |
And bring me that Patrone, I don’t play |
No ice I like my drink straight, not gay |
And bitch that bank come everyday, I’m paid |
I wish a nigga come invade, get sprayed |
I stomp a nigga out like I got ten legs |
Then they fish the nigga up out the lake in ten days |
Behave, no ho, I’m on that Rage Rov |
Cash Money, Young Money, ho that money age old |
And can’t a cage hold this animal from Hollygrove |
Sorry mommy I be stoned, I be, I be, I be blowed |
Got me copy rock star, Weezy Baby fuck these hoes |
Gotta pay me now for me to even take these hos |
Price sizing for a show and the flow |
So either Drama is my nigga, or that boy got doe |
Go figure that’s my nigga, that’s my nigga, my nerve |
If anybody else want it, sixty thousand a verse yea |