Freeway - Cannon lyrics

[Produced by DJ Don Cannon] [Verse 1: Lil Wayne] Howdy do motherf**as, it's Weezy Baby n***as b**hin' and I gotta tote the (Cannon) Listen close, I got duct tape and rope I leave you missing like the f**ing O'bannons One hand on my money, one hand on my buddy That's the AK-47, make his neighborhood love me Bullets like birds, you can hear them b**hes humming Don't make that bird sh**, he got a weak stomach n***as know I'm sick, I don't spit, I vomit, got it? One egg short of the omelet Simon says: "shoot a n***a in his thigh and leg" And tell him "catch up" like mayonnaise I'm the sickest n***a doing it, bet that baby These other n***as dope, I'm wet crack baby Yes, get back, get back boy, this a setback Clumsy a** n***as slip and fall into a d**h trap Them boys p**y, born without a backbone And if you strapped we can trade like the Dow Jones Wet em up, I hope he got his towel on I aim at your moon and get my howl on Some n***as cry wolf, I'm on that dry kush And when it come to that paper I stack books You heard what I said I can put you on your feet or put some money on ya head Life ain't cheap, you better off dead if you can't pay the fee Shout out my n***a Fee See every motherf**a at the door don't get a key You're outside looking in, so tell me what you see It's about money, it's bigger than me I tell my homies: "don't k** him, bring the n***a to me" Yeah, don't miss, you f**ing with the hitman Kidnap a n***a, make him feel like a kid again [Hook x2: Lil Wayne] Straight up, I ain't got no conversation for you n***a talk to the (Cannon) Yeah, have a few words with the (Cannon) Yeah, tell it to my motherf**ing (Cannon) [Verse 2: Freeway] From Philly to where I'm landing I'm a (Cannon) And I'm on that Philly fighting sh** And I come fully equipped You trolley, get bodied, keep nina and shotty in the whip If a n***a try to stick me I'mma blam him Sing along now, di-di-dadi, I'm Free Got the bu*ters, got the green, he got the tan Got the whole enchilada Owe me dough, I'm inside of ya house Tie up ya brother, make the prick call up ya mother She might know where to find you I am on top of my job The heavyweight champ of the flowers Flow like the ocean, open water, ya drowning I will four-pound him, and sink him Heat him then leave him stinking Sharks surround him and eat him, nice to know him I will roll over your squad like I'm "One Punch" Carr You chumps, you best call General Motors I will take control of your soldiers You won't miss 'em 'til I toss em in the wok like chicken General Tso, uh-oh! [Verse 3: Willie the Kid] I make it hard for rap n***as, I'm peer pressure Matter of fact I'm motivation to rap better I showed n***as how to act, how to dress better I stay fresh, more fitted caps than bad catchers I'm the crack, the smack, the gun, the rule The gat, the strap, the gun, the tool The motherf**ing (Cannon) Other words, I'm the real, for real We can go check for check or bill for bill We can go chick for chick or sk** for sk** The deal is sealed, n***as ain't real as Will Cause I'm a (Cannon) And I handle well, pedal like Cannondale And I got the 50-cal mag, its a handheld (Cannon) I'm telling you n***as, I pop, put a shell in you n***as My nice watch'll Helen Keller you n***as I got who*es in the Canon camcorder bendin' over Blowing 'ghan by the quarter Weed odor in the Rover, n***a [Verse 4: Detroit Red] Detroit Red gettin' change like them white folks Dump it out the window of the Range with the rifle Pain like a b**h like the first day of a cycle You better scurry when I pull the (Cannon) Tracks burn the streets like a truck do the gas I love head and caressing a voluptuous a** I ask ya baby mama is she up to the task She like "Damn Red, it's bigger than (Cannon)" My attire makes the ladies say ya man is too fly Imported oils from Iran and Dubai Get caught slipping with ya mans and you die Where I'm from n***as be quick to squeeze the (Cannon) Detroit Red always got some sh** for ya ear Show me love but keep it moving man, cause you if you get near I'll say, "get off my dick" and tell ya b**h to "come here" 'Cause you sweating me and my DJ Don (Cannon) [Verse 5: Juice] Legs spread far out, you know how I'm standing Yeah I'm posted with the big homie (Cannon) I got n***as who don't like rap lovin' our sh** We got n***as who was stuck on Pac bumpin' our sh** These n***as can't see me like I ain't been around lately A good batter when they at the mound it's gravy n***as salty, I'm pepper, no Spinderella Just a cigarillo, filled with Tropicana Yeah, Vic found that lick now we not smoking no more regular Keep ya mid-grade, I don't think you know no better They love "In Da Trunk", now they wanna hear more sh** I play it modest like "n***a thats some of our old sh**," Got n***as I ain't never met wanting to fight me Got hoes thats in love asking "why you don't like me"? b**h I'm married to the game and I love my wifey Steppin' over competition, man I love these Nikes Yeah, I'm hot, they fanning n***as try to copy my style like the (Cannon) Don't try to compare I'm in a league of my own If I ain't listed at the top, n***a the stats is wrong All the data is off, ya info ain't valid Artist of the century the competition ain't balanced True like Master P and his two brothers Don't call it incest, but Juice the motherf**er Like ch'yea