Testo Spitter - Lil Wayne
Testo della canzone Spitter (Lil Wayne), tratta dall'album Freestyle: Iconic Hip Hop Tunes.
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit (Big shout to Philly)
Grab yo' gat— (Yeah)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit (Shout to everybody down in The Bottom)
Grab yo' gat— (Boo in here! Fee!)
Spit yo game, talk yo' shit (Shout to G-Town!)
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Spitta, Mack, Ju', baby)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call your clique (Yeah! Can't forget The Hollow!)
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Yeah)
Pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Dedication too, Drama!)
Pass the weed, I got to light one (DJ Drama! Dramatic!)
What your Mammy told you 'bout fucking 'round with them soldiers?
Told you I'd be back—I'm comin'; I got that Tommy La-soda (Oh!)
That's blood all over your sofas, blood all over your posters
Blood all over your shoulders, blood all over the strollers
Do that shit—I done that shit; it's Weezy Baby—
"He's a baby, but that nigga run that shit"
Make that money come back quick
Take that money from that bitch—she know what it be: M-O-B
Pistol right there in my reach—you know what it be: him or me
Bitches know when that limo leave, two words: room key
Where? Penthouse suite, wear not-a-damn-thing
I'm here—bada-bam-bing
My hand bling, my wrist bling, my neck bling, my ear bling
Super bowl ring, bitch
Cash Money, Young Money: Super Bowl team, bitch
Money, money, money, money: I'm true to those things, bitch
You with those pussy hoes, I shoot at those queens, bitch
This is New Orleans, bitch: murder dope fiend shit
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Spitta, Mack, Ju', baby)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Yeah)
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Yeah)
Pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Dedication too, Drama!)
Pass the weed, I got to light one (Gangsta Gri-Zillz!)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Spitta, Mack, Ju', baby)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Yeah)
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Yeah)
Pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Dedication 2, Drama!)
Pass the weed, I got to light one (Gangsta Grillz, you bastards! Gangsta!)
What your Pappy told you bout fucking 'round with them soldiers?
I told you I'm coming back—I got that Tommy Mottola
That's blood all over your Rover, blood all over your chauffeur
Blood all over your loafers
If I get any closer, there's blood all over my toaster, blood all over my holster
I'm in them S. Dots: That's blood all over my Hovas—fuck!
I'm hustlin' with a motive: My niggas need me
And that Tiger in my pocket say, "Feed me"—it's greedy
See them niggas—jack them niggas; kill them niggas—whack them niggas
Ask them bitches, ask them niggas: Weezy Baby—that's the nigga
Catch me mashing in a V: matching seats, matching feet
Sheesh! That bitch too sweet for the streets
Got that keef in the leaf if he finna beef; no need to speak—let it be what it be
Niggas want peace—I make 'em leave here, piece by piece
Fuck me? Fuck you! What it is? What it do?
I been ready since eighty-one, and I was born in eighty-two
Hollygrove where I'm from, but we call that bitch "The Zoo"
I ain't never trust a bitch since she ate that forbidden fruit
Sucker-free, sucker-proof; fifty shots, cut 'em loose
Quarterback Weezy, baby: Shotgun, run, and shoot
Coming true—Young'un' do what young'un's do: ball, baby
At home, fornicating; homie by the phone, waiting
Goddamn, I am a man, "the man"
The mo-, therfuck-, -ing Pres-, ident, bitch!
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Spitta, Mack, Ju', baby)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Yeah)
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Yeah)
Pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Dedication too, Drama!)
Pass the weed, I got to light one (Dramatic, nigga! Dr— Dr— Dr—)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Spitta, Mack, Ju', baby)
Spit yo' game, talk yo' shit
Grab yo' gat, call yo' clique (Yeah)
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Yeah)
Pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze yo' clip, hit the right one (Dedication 2, Drama!)
Pass the weed, I got to light one (That's right)
So I'ma talk my shit for a minute
I wanted to take a vacation
Niggas wouldn't let me
The streets too dry—they need us!
Credits
Writer(s): Henri Contet, Jean Jal (georges Bastyns)
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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