Testo Throwed - Lil Wayne feat. Gudda Gudda
Testo della canzone Throwed (Lil Wayne feat. Gudda Gudda), tratta dall'album Sorry 4 The Wait
Mr. Hanky
Uh
Uh
Uh
Uh
Yeah, okay
I walk up in the club, Louis-Louis with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm with a Halle Berry body
You know what I do, I get-get straight to the Mula
Wrist-W-W-Wristwear frigid and my watch is a Franck Muller
I'm-I'm reppin' Young Mula, G-Gudda times two, I
Remember when I used to stuff my paper in my shoebox
Now I got two large accounts where money stacks in large amounts
What the fuck you niggas talking 'bout? 'Cause we ain't tryna talk it out
Pistol hanging out my jeans, it ain't a thing, let's spark it out
Let that chopper start to sing and let it ring, and then I'm out
Yeah, you know what I'm sipping, purple got me tripping
Scoop your chicken up and let her lick me like a lizard
I'm on South Beach chilling, and I'm tryna fuck e'ry hottie
Get her to the crib and make her fuck e'rybody
You know the team, it's Young Money over e'rybody
In the rap game, so it's, "Fuck e'rybody"
Married to the mob, bury you alive
My girl pussy feel like Heaven to a God
And I came in this bitch with my niggas
Kidnap the baby and the fucking babysitter, yeah
I be doing me, don't give a fuck 'bout what you doing
Blood gang, bitch, big Bs, Boston Bruins
I could do this shit eyes-closed, nothing to it
Bullets fuck your body up, they ain't even tryna view it
I go tough, I go stupid
Murk your pussy ass and everyone you in cahoots with
Fuck you with a pool-stick, make you swallow toothpicks
Fucking right we ruthless, we done watched too many movies
Done smoked too many doobies, murk you out, then deuces
We don't know what truce is, that bulletproof vest so useless
Flag red like bruises, shoot at your head with them Uzis, I swear
Your honor, I ain't a dealer, I'm a user, you dig?
I load up the Sig, point it at your wig
Pull over on the highway, throw you off the bridge
We don't give a fuck, and we ain't ever did
Shit, three words you never hear, "Let him live"
I'm in my own zone, it got me throwed off
I break these bitches down; I break these hoes off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got Gudda on the tape
Public apology, Sorry 4 the Wait, yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Dwayne Carter, Carl Lilly, Corey Dennard, Derrick Crooms, Ricky Harris, Montreal Lakeith Lee, Tariq Karim Abdul Ameer, Scott Kenneth E
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