down i beat it up twelve round [Lil Wayne Chorus] She she got that good good she got that got that good she got she got that got that she she got that
out, then I take her down I beat it up twelve round She, she got that good, good She got that, got that good She got, she got that, got that She, she
pumpin' steel, both sweatin' But you know she got nothin' to hide And I got something to hide here called desire I got something to hide here called desire And I
. James I got Brick City, even D.C. *** They all steal for me outta P.C. Riches I move like a pimp, but I'm far from one Like Lil' Weez, I got army guns
I'm high, when I sag my two black guys I would be brief but my Karl kani's didn't dry I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps My smoke bangs
I wave bitch you better say heeyyyyyyyy W A R K Newark NJ got the AK I'm a Kid From the Hall I got big balls to make your pussy walls dribble
kind of loops I sample from a James Brown group I give credit, cause I'm cautious, about lawsuits PsychoBetaP-Funk, got styles hard as tree trunks For real punk, you got
funk I wants to get funked up Make my funk, the P funk I wants to get funked up I'm back with the funk, chump You want funk, how many lumps? I got spunk I
when I drop the Maybach You lyin', you claim you buyin' but you rentin' and leasin' If you pimpin' and niggaz spendin', where's the paper you seein'?
one more time Ya ready? All you brand new rappers got a new flow You ain't samplin' James Brown no more Probably try to sample Cameo Parliament Funkadelic, you scandalous ho You
If you was a pussy you'd get fucked If you was a dick you'd get circumsized You better back the fuck up or I hurt them eyes Fuck with Goldy you be hoein
So when I'm in my car, I play Clinton And when I'm on the stage I start pimping And when I hear your shit, I push eject Then I throw it out the window
, if you answer my rap I tear your ass apart just like this, it lasts forever You make a song and I make one better You say I cuss, I say you're fake
See when I'm yellin' International help me No color lines on my Ugly and fine, you can sell me I'm glad folks think the same way as I do 'Cause I stab
it's fin you're in with Mack 10 And I gotta confess up, nigga this West Up! for life Chorus Verse Three: Ice Cube Now I got ta show you how the West coast
I don't speak, I float in the air wrapped in a sheet I'm not a real person, I'm a ghost trapped in a beat I translate when my voice is read through
time I'll be kinder And I'll be tougher too I won't worry half as much - and neither will you But for now I've got to go On and strut my stuff I'll sing