Lil Wayne - Grove Street Party - Текст песни

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
I got a whole lotta money, pop that pussy for me
My homie got that yopper, he'll bang it at a copper
Ay, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party!
Stove on my waist, cook your ass up, gourmet
All-black .44, do you want foreplay?
I'm going at your face like Oil of Olay
No champagne, but you know my flag Rose
Swagger on steroids: Canseco, Jose
No Limit Records: We so 'bout it 'bout it
I'm higher than a bitch, feel like I climbed a fucking mountain
Illest nigga you know, my accountant's still counting
Shot hit him a minute ago but his body's still bouncing
Beam on the hammer, beam on your forehead
Gotta kill the witnesses cause Birdman car red
Hollygrove Monster, Eagle Street creature
Come to your funeral, kill everybody but the preacher
I live in Miami, nigga, I'll South Beach ya
Robin Leach, uh, that's how we ballin'
You know that I'm loaded, but please don't think its sweeter
Beat one of you bitch niggas up like John Cena
Them hoes on Young Money, tell them hoes we coming
Boy, we get it popping, we ain't saving hoes, we swapping
Yeah, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party!
Big head Desert Eagle, call it "shotty"
How'd you get that money? Stunna taught me that
That Xan took me under, patron brought me back
I'm leaning on you muthafuckers like I caught a flat
And that Glock snap back like an old Starter hat
What the lick read? I'm in the big league
I'm a breath of fresh air "Let the bitch breathe!"
I'm trying to chillax but I had to do it, dev
I'm at the funeral like "I had to do it, rev!"
Mack you my big brother, I split a wig for you
Put that on their repeat until they bury me
Moment of clarity: yeah, that's my diamond game
I keep a fine bitch cause I like the finer things
Fuck with me slime
No brain on the whip, I've got nothing in mind
Carter 4, they ain't fucking with mine
I drop that Sorry 4 the Wait to make up for the time

[Verse 2: Lil B]
Yeah I do my thang, bitch what's up?
Young Based God, came in with the ballers
Iced out chain, bitch, I'm rich off that same shit
Sixty-five hoes on my dick, bitch, it's Christmas
Straight Westside, Bay Area bitch, I'll grave em
Pretty boy shit, Based God finna hang em
Armed like a cradle and you niggas can't stop me
Shouts out to Mack Maine getting rich and cocky
Bitch it's still West side, shouts out to Weezy
Young Based God with that 55 heater
187 bitch, I pull a 2-11 bitch
With that tiny shirt mane and the tiny pants mane
I'm on Based World and I fuck with, Cash Money niggas
Don't understand, Maine, they gang like a chain
Woo woo! Swag, bitch, Brang-dang-dang-dang
Off the top, I'm a Wolfpack hitter
Man, my life just a painting and I paint you a picture, mane
Think about it: a young paid-ass nigga
This that stuntin' music; bitch, I just do's it
It's Lil B and I'll muthafuckin prove it