[Intro]
There ain't no love like
Like father like son, n***a
[Verse 1: Birdman]
Yeah
It's filthy with quarter ki's in the kitchen on 'em
Tha block is hot but we out here gettin it on 'em
And keep a tool everytime we hit the streets
Cause these n***as act a fool and we be quick to put it on 'em
Them tear drops homie we so not
The n***a to f** with cause we will pop
.40 cal keep it co*ked n***a ready to block
Keep a gun a extra clip homie thats how we rock
And like father like son daddy we dont borrow
We stay on the grind homie cause we grind harder
And f**in with me homie you won't like
You be the next t-shirt, we in ya hood all night
We got birds flyin out and we've allowed the pipes
We do this state to state thing and cheat the price
And Rufus came home and I told him to shave
But he was tellin me about them p**y n***as back in the eighties, baby
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Listen
Birdman put me on when I was just eleven
He was my teacher, so I was like f** the lesson
He was my preacher, so I was like f** the reverend
My mother Cita, she said that I was with the devil
My mother Cita, now say that he was sent from heaven
So, I take heed to every single word that he tell me
And I remember what my poppa told me
Remember what my poppa told me, Young Stunna
[Verse 3: Birdman]
Yeah
Im out c'here homie pitchin the game
And yes I do the whole thing n***a give me my change
Yes we do the same thing out the brand new Range
Little n***a like his father homie doin his thing
We keep the gun for paper homie aimed and co*ked
Every n***a in my circle homie ready to pop
We be ridin drop tops thats just how we rock
And ill be ridin in the Phantom through my up town blocks
n***a
[Hook]
[Verse 4: Lil Wayne]
Alright money on my mind
Look I-I-I I hear you n***as wisperin
I say wisperin cause you n***as ain't hollerin bout sh**
Po' p**y a** n***as gangster and me
Look Birdman jr f** the world pops
And we gon keep it movin even if the world stops
Stay strapped and laced like girl socks
Stay dapped and drapped like a birthday cake
Birthdays was the worst days
Now we sippin' on Louis when we thirsty
Ya know, I do believe the moneys cursed me
So I pray to God that the devil dont murk me, uh
Little Wizzle but you b**hes call me first place
And papa taught me paper chase never skirt chase
I put you n***as in the closet in the shirt space
You n***as yellow like Sesame street Bert's face
Worst case scenario, burial
Two tone Carara like Mascara, uh
The G4 take your boy where ever
Like father, like son the era, n***a
[Hook]