[Lil Wayne]1
Yeah, straight up D-Boy! Seventeenth ward!
Miss Katrina turned my city to a seashore
I keep going for them Cohen like Lyor
They gon' either respect me or: E.R
Burnin' them b**hes like a ci-gar
Punk, put a hump in your back, they called it Igor!
War? This sh** is hard, any yard where we are
We call that c**aine rice, I got that Condoleezza!
Huh? You f** with me chump, I rock your teacup
I say before you spend a dollar boy, put up the re-up
Yep! Get up cause we up, foot up and knee up
In the game, put up and shut up, I hit your head up
Or go bang; the Birdgang and the Birdman J
Lil Wayne, here to hang, other words here to stay
Feel my pain, Fireman, I spark in the rain
I walk through the flames, yeah, all for the change, yeah
Call it insane but I'm a hustler to the muscle
And them new drop Bentleys look like p**y in the summer
So I'm f**ing that, hugging that, block like I'm loving that
Never sell a crumb where my mother at! —run with that
You can come at me for beef! —and shots come with that
Your b**h come at me for wood! —and I'm the lumberjack!
I come in that Similac Maybach, shades black
Looking like I'm tryna bring Yay back, ASAP
Give it to 'em raw, no Ajax, taste that
Heh, f** around and make your face crack
I know n***as that, shoot dope, arms looking like a racetrack
n***a missed a vein in his neck, his whole face fat!
You can't take that? Well I can't take back
Where I come from so I learned how to make that
Yeah, turn that straight to a G stack
Stack up my cheese, now I'm screaming "Where the keys at?"
[Juelz Santana]
I'm live from, block one, five-one, where my young
n***as on the rise to get a name, don't try them
—Wayne, I feel your pain and I see your stress
How they think your people 'posed to get through Katrina off a FEMA check?
Coke in the Pyrex; dope and the ice, yes;
Mind on the highway, road signs, right, left
And that's the mind-state of kids growin' up
Still they wonder why the crime rate's goin up
Throw it up: Eastside, Westside, Southside, Northside
f** with my money I? Torch guys, off guys
Hire men, fire men, send 'em to a higher man (there he go)
Torture 'em: Vice grip, pliers man
n***as turn to tin foil when they see the iron man
Pressure bust pipes, I apply it and
Move like a lion through the jungle, yes!
There is none higher than: Me
Don't slip up and end wind up in the lion's den!
Big body Benz idlin', higher than
A chick that flight-attend or Air Force flyer man
Bad b**hes I fly 'em in, f** 'em
Send 'em back home hyped feeling like they on nit-ro-gen
Just call me the Pied Piper man
Still get the coke through the pipeline, then off to the piper stem
And I'm still getting paper back in rubber bands
I still got paper bags coming in
I still got that mattress with the paper bags under it
Comic books, Playboy baby mag under it, still!
I still got ties with my guys who don't speak no English
Them Vatos, they got those cheapest;
Got no green card, got no visas, and got those Pablo features!
They drop off and pick up; I pick up then drop off
Then drop off what's picked up, and then what?
I get it