作词 : CARTER, DWAYNE / SIMMONS, TYREE CINQUE

作曲 : CARTER, DWAYNE / SIMMONS, TYREE CINQUE

[Spoken Interlude: Lil Wayne]

My favorite TV shows, man, is SportsCenter, ESPN News, Pardon the Interruption, um, Around the Horn, uh, Quite Frankly, um, Outside the Lines, uh, yuh, uh, Baseball Tonight? Y’er’me? I watch sports, dog. That’s basically—that’s what I’m tryna say. I watch sports, man. That’s what I’m into. Sports, sports, sports—every sport. Hockey, golf, basketball,—football, of course— baseball, y’er’me? I got a favorite team, a favorite player in every single sport. I’m not gon’ answer those questions. Let’s go —

[Intro: Lil Wayne, DJ Drama, & DJ tags]

[?], what up?

That was my phone

Shout-out to Boogie Brown! (Gangsta Gri-Zillz!)

Janeice, I see you!

I ain’t cut it off, I just hung up

It’s Gangsta Grillz, you bastards!

Yeah

[False Start: Lil Wayne, DJ Drama, & DJ tags]

Cover my tracks like butter, so where the bread be?

I see beef as dead meat

Who that?” (Yes!) The president— yeah, me; no one scare me

And you ain't gotta double-dare me, hear me?

(Gangsta Grillz, you bastards!) Oh!

[Verse: Lil Wayne, DJ Drama, & DJ tags]

Cover my tracks like butter, so where the bread be?

I see beef as dead meat

"Who that?" The president—yeah, me; no one scare me

And you ain't gotta double dare me, hear me—

Loud and clearly? rats aren't near me

Wire-tap niggas get blood in they earpiece

I'm from New Orleans, nowhere near peace

Pure beast, fear-free —"Dear grief!"

Catch up, bitch, I'm in gear three

Zoom, gone, see you, peace! Drop one finger (Gangsta!)

Yeah! **** 'em and whoever made 'em

I will hurt whoever love 'em, 'cause I hate 'em

Lookin' for a lady, high and sedated

Got her to the pad—I don't know how a nigga made it

She gave me relations, so, now, we related

The morning comes; the picture faded

I waited on my turn to burn—can I get a light?

Little dog: bigger bite; Jackson Five: Little Mike

Can I get a mic or a mic and a half—

That the Source owe me? Shout out to the editing staff, yeah

I'm all grown, so much better with math

I need a spread in the "Forbes" taking a Benjamin bath, yeah

I'm serving this track, like Steffi Graf, yeah

Roger Federer; there's no competitors

Niggas know my rhetoric; bitches know my preference

Young God, baby—all them other niggas reverends

Sittin' in my big house, surrounded by my weaponries

I keep them away like I got leprosy

Chopper right next to me, loaded up with pepper seeds

Got an extra clip, but that's only for my especiallys, yeah, yeah

(Dramatic— Dramatic—) This is especially for you

Just respect a nigga game—what kind of referee is you?

Swallow your whistle— make a nigga ride with the pistol

'Cause the fakest niggas ride with the pistol

Even if I die old, I'ma die with the pistol

If you stand over my body, I'll prob'ly kill you, yeah

Now, I feel it: Weezy the realest

I wear a lot of Bathing Ape, 'cause I be with gorillas, yeah (Gangsta— Gangsta—)

He what they talking 'bout: topic of the conversation

Product of determination, yeah

Stop playing—you are not up in my situation

I get money like a Caucasian

The car red, so the car Cajun; stop hatin'

Y'all ballers; I'm a sports agent, yeah

Wait a minute—let me translate it: It's—

"Weezy Not-The-Father Mother****in' Baby"