[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