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    Lil' Wayne »

    Lil' Wayne Best Rapper Alive текст песни

    Best Rapper Alive

    [Verse 1]
    Bring the crowd and I’m loud _In Living Colour_
    It is Weezy fuckin’ baby got these rappers in my stomach
    Yumi, I’m takin’ it I ain’t asking them for nothing
    If you sell a million records we can battle for ya’ money
    I rather count a hundred thousand dollars on a sunday
    Watch a football game and bet it all on one play
    Still stuntin’ baby yes I’m still flossin
    Latest car on the market wit the top peeled off it
    Big wheels make it look a lil bulky
    You look a lil salty have ya’ self a chill coffee
    Chill out the girls is still out
    Even though I am a boss and got papers to fill out
    I’m busy I got paper to reel in
    God I hope they steppin’ at the end of my rod
    And I hope I’m fishing in the right pond
    And I hope you catchin’ on to every line
    Who am I?

    The Best Rapper Alive [4x]
    Swagger right (check) game tight
    And they gon R-E-S-P-E-C-T me
    (who) The Best Rapper Alive [4x]
    Swagger right (check) game tight
    And you should be afraid be very afraid

    [Verse 2]
    The heart of New Orleans
    Thumpin’ and beatin’
    Livin’ and breathin’
    Stealin’ and feedin
    Peelin’ and leavin’
    Killin’ and grievin’
    Dearly departed erased deleted
    No prints no plates no face no trace
    Out of sight out of mind
    No court no case
    Sell his chain celebrate block party second line
    Zulu ball essence fest jazz fest mardi gras
    Shorty bounce body rock
    Now he drop now he got
    Family cry tell the feds tell the cops
    Smell the rat comin’ back to the house
    To the spot tap tap knock knock who is dat
    (Pow!) trigga man hoodie man tell the kids
    Boogie man pistol pete ammo mammal gun man blum blam!
    Damn Sammie you dun’ fucked up
    Pussy ass niggaz put ya’ nuts up
    Just call me


    [Verse 3]
    Fuck up wit all these rookie MCs
    (whew!) smell like a bunch of pussy to me
    Fuck Em!
    Fuck ‘em good fuck long fuck ‘em hard
    Fuck who? Fuck ‘em all
    (yeah) like dat jus like dat right back
    I’m on dat money train and the mac’ll knock ‘em off track
    The quarterback well protected from the +Warren Sapp+
    The young heart attack I spit dat cardiac
    You can’t see me baby boy you got dat catorax
    I’m right here straight out the hood jus like an alley cat
    Since everyone’s a king where the fuckin’ palace at
    Me I got calus on my hand I can handle dat
    Its no problem baby I so got ‘em
    Its just a victory lap baby I’m jus joggin’
    And I ain’t even out of breath
    the motherfuckin’ best yet sorry for cursing


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