A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Lil Wayne

"Put Some Keys On That"

Weed and syrup is the combination
And the inspiration is you pus*y-ass n*ggas
I just realized y'all can't f*ck with me
And you never will, b*tch-ass n*ggas
Weezy F. Baby, believe that
Haha, yeah

I got them 24 inches, sitting on them Joe Buddens
And the trunk straight jumping, b*tch, I can't hear nothing
Or I might do the Spurs, sitting on them Tim Duncans
And in that Lamborghini I do donuts like Dunkin's
How come every bad b*tch with a pus*y wanna f*ck him?
But I just feed 'em drugs and just watch 'em f*ck each other
My neck was a hundred and my wrist was another
It make her pus*y wet, I leave that b*tch with a puddle
I'm a beast, I'm a dog, I should rap with a muzzle
Peyton Manning flow, I just go, no huddle
Baby girl getting straight di*k, no cuddle
You know I'm out this world, I just bought a space shuttle
I'mma put some D's on that b*tch
And these hoes starting to get like fleas on my sh*t
Have you seen her? Who? Nina, she's on my hip
Yellow-white diamonds, call it cheese on them grits
You n*ggas ain't ballin'
Real talk, you n*ggas can't guard me
Two n*ggas can't guard me, you looking at Jordan
From the side, like Spike at the Garden
I got the hardest bars, call me the warden
Yeah, excuse me, pardon
I break a b*tch down like Tonya Harding
b*tch, I'm col', not dude off Martin
Pockets just fat like the Klumps and Norbit
b*tch, I'm fly like a magic carpet
And b*tch, I'm fresh like a pack of Orbit
See, I'mma take it and go bring it back to New Orleans
And b*tch, I'mma shine in the land of darkness
In which I'mma grind 'til my stacks is tall as a wall is
And I'm high, don't wanna know how deep the fall is
No, I can't come down
And every time I send my girl out of town
I put some keys on that b*tch, I'm a certified gangsta
Haters make me nauseous, the money make me anxious
Listen how my words are poetic like Langston
Dreads down my back like I come straight from Kingston
But I come from Hollygrove, seventeen, danger zone
So many C-notes, I can sing a song
T-top coupe, looking like a thong
Your girl love my di*k, she treats it like a bong
I don't wanna be right if gettin' high is wrong
My eyes so low, I look like I'm from Hong Kong
Boy, I got more green than the Bishop Don Juan
OK, I'm not a rookie, I'm a pro — methazine fiend
Make the homies say ho, and make all the girlies scream
I am a vegetarian, man, I only eat beats
Wear a lot of carats, and I smoke the best greens
No beef in my grocery bag
Just some Swishers and a whole bunch of cans of whoop-ass, ha
I'm strapped, like a bookbag
So anyone of y'all can come on and get a foot tag
Ride all night; sleep, no way
Sleep when I lay
Six feet deep, and until that day
I'mma be living like it is that day
Yeah, I keep holding on
I said, b*tch I been hot, b*tch the stove been on
If you don't like it, I roll over and roll alone
f*ck you and the horse that you rode in on
Yeah, some cool shorts and my Kobes on
Looking slicker than the lane that you bowling on
If they ain't tell you I'm the sh*t, then they told you wrong
b*tch, I'm bubbling like soda foam
In a styrofoam
You know what's in my styrofoam?
That's my car, yup
Vrooommmmm (Errr!)
I'm gone

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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