[Lil Wayne ad lib intro:]
Yea!... n***a this the young god Weezy Baby, what’s yo name catty?

T Streets:
This T Streets n***a

Wayne:
My n***a Street’s telling me he need me and Gudda to eat a few n***as’ back up

Gudda Gudda:

Murda murda, steal steal
Uh huh… holla at ya dude man call the coroner man the track has just been murdered

[Verse 1: Wayne]

Hear me out…
I – step up in this mutha fucka, chest up
Only Hot Boy left up, in this mutha –
Other n***as slept up, but I kept up
N***as stepped down, but I stepped up – in this mutha fucka
Let the Sqad up in this mutha fucka
Keep yo wilding up, we tear the whole side up, in this mutha fucka
South side up in this mutha fucka
Shots fired outside or – you and ya guys could die up in this mutha fucka

Young, Southern, Mutha Fucka: Weezy Baby/Raw Tune
Not a cartoon, send a harpoon to your hearts soon if you walk too
Close to me ???
Can’t see my flows, I practice notes with the ghosts, no joke
I’m realer than 16 days after 9/11; September 27th Happy Birthday Weezy... n***a…


[Verse 2: Gudda Gudda]

Yea n***a, this Gudda Gudda
All my street n***as stand up, all my gudda n***as stand up, I’mma give it to ya’ll like this (Gudda)

Look
Listen – I
Aim the thunder squeeze at ya shoulders, the ??? will puff and breeze your granola
It’s anger, hunger, he’s just a soldier
It’s gangster Gudda – Gudda mutha fucka
What another mutha fucka going to tell 'high yellow'?
Slim cat, send em where his brim at and trim that
And at your funeral –
I don’t know why they sing “This Little Light of Mine” cause I dim that
I’m on that stem that
Weezy get from Cam and the Dip’mats
Ya’ll can’t get that
Flowin off the shit that – come out that fat booga sack
Now I’m in the back with the Mac like: “What you lookin at?”

Fuck I got to quit that
Never that, rude cat, get back
Cool presence, but I merk anyone fool present
Fool I’m the neighborhood’s dude’s message
And got you n***as…


[Verse 3: Wayne]

Ye-aaaah!
That’s Gudda, N***a!
I’m about to burn this shit back up
You know what I’m saying?
Hear your boy out

Listen

N***a
This this South
And who can give it to you like me has been given
But you aren't here till you like me
So therefore, their whores till they like me
This shit is Hell boy – or what it might be
I’m 90 proof hustler, 10% human
Whip the shit ???
Strip the strip boomin
Get the script screwed in
Nina Ross get the script screwed and
Get yo click screwed up
Me and my click screwed up – like the Screwed Up Click
Got the purple juice poured up, the Sqad Up sip
Then the purple coupe pulled up, like: “Sqad Up’s Here”
Got bitches riding with n***as like: “Let Me Out of Here”
My flow is very out-of-here
Listen ma I know I say I get us here –
But look then your baby boy got a year
Now I have not-a-fear…

Fuck ya’ll! Gudda come back...

[Verse 4: Gudda]

Gudda:

Man ya’ll don’t want that trouble, that’s a bunch of trouble right there, man ya’ll don’t want…
But I’m going to give it to ya’ll one more time, one more time


Gudda!

Look, look…
I move with the tool on the waistline, shoes on the grey 5
Blues any fool tryna take mine
Been a fool since I was yay high
Stay high puffin Hershey, eyes yay high
Mommy wanna ride with me you gotta Maz mine
That mean put your fuckin face by my waistline
Gudda goin hard at a bitch I don’t waste time
I’m from that Stateline where n***as get there cake right to bake pies
This the city where the blocks is burnin
Rocks is burnin
The shit that keep yo pockets splurging
It’s Gudda Gudda, watch the wheels win the drop is turnin
Like my wrist: alotta ice when the watch is turnin
Not concerned with – dope fiends whose pockets hurtin
Sqad Up. When we drop, shit’s locked for certain...


[Verse 5: Wayne]

Wayne:

Shit’s locked, click clack man
Check me…
They say I’m too young to know about the shit I be talking about
See that’s the type of shit I be talking about
But fuck the world and what they talking about
If you ain't talking about this, then you aren't talking about shit
Listen, I got a quarter of block
I stretch it, let it hard and it rock
Then show the hood what a bargain about
-Fuck
I got shop I call it stock
But not on Wall Street, I put this shit on Ya’ll Street so ya’’ll ???
Word to the highest above –
If so happens my raps don’t fly I’ll flip pies and such
Use my, school knowledge, mix science with drugs
And I’m smart enough to know that I’m going to die as a thug
N***a life’s nothing but getting high off the bud
Cause after that I feel like I could just die in love
For the streets: I got dying love
Two tear drops are crying for, all my dying thugs
Embrace my pistol, with bear-lion hugs
Keep trying, your lying blood
Man n***a, I breathe Iron man
My heart put lion blood
And when I roll, I grow wings and flow high above – (Music ends)
Birdman, Jr. in the skies above
The turbulence in the air make my tires rub
"I’m about to drop down Phe, Line me Up"
Perfect landing like (whistle) boom!
High, what's up?