Birdman - 500 Degreez lyrics

[Lil Wayne talking] It's the real sh**, yeah 500 Degreez this time biotch Yes sir, you already know [Lil Wayne verse 1] You see me? I eat, sleep, sh**, and talk snaps; so f** rap Man I got weed, pills, pistols, all crack b**h n***as where ya hearts at? Ya'll ain't stuntin' like us b**h n***as where ya cars at? They like, "Wayne why the f** you dressed in all black?" I'm about to bring CMR back And all the lames, we done lost that And all we got is Weezy, Weezy, and Lil' Weezy to fall back I'm about to lock it from the summer to the fall and back "Its Weezy baby!" The ballers back And the wheels on my car you got all of that Stop playing, I've been balling jack You don't want my Glock spraying - I hit all them cats You don't want my stomach ache - I sh** on them cats I get all them gats - Fresh and B it's all a rap! If I'm the only Hot Boy what do you call that? [Hook] You don't want to f** with Weezy You don't want to f** with Weezy [Lil Wayne] b**h what? I'll bust ya a** up Don't even go there round n***as get your cash up We probably need to clash up And sh** got me 'bout a** up They finding n***as in they sh** with they a** up It ain't October 31st but we gone mask up - and guess what And I heard they got a nice chain And for the right price I'll bust the right brain And mommy hot cause pull up in that white thang Yo n***a might be fly but I still get trifling Riding through the city just me and my friend Friday night special, professional tight aim A gangsta is who you hearing Me in my building with 20 bricks in the ceiling I'm more real than, I got more scrill than Got more sk** than them there I'm a Cash Money Millionaire [Hook] You don't want to f** with Weezy You don't want to f** with Weezy Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy Hot, Hot, Hot Boy [Lil Wayne] Baby let me get the keys to the rover No, let me get the keys to the house in Eastover So I can throw a 500 Degreez platinum party, then the after party Me and my Squad stomping in this b**h, f** a Kappa party Don't go to rapper parties - I'm no rapper man But when the homies come home we throw a monster jam And all my people tote chrome - we some monsters man We gone mob to the promise land I bought big - I'm a Tymer man Son of a Stunna - still a girl f** with a hustler! Weezy keep it gutter for ya Baby Bubba Baby blue Mercedes Coupe - Got it bullet proof Make me shoot my 80 duke at your f**ing roof You're f**ing with a big dog, n***a f**ing woof Mr. S-f**ing-Q - I'm the f**ing truth Three stripes, maybe Nikes, lot of ice f**ing ooohf! That's 500 Degreez! [Hook] You don't want to f** with Weezy You don't want to f** with Weezy Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy Hot, Hot, Hot Boy b**h get your mind right, b**h get your mind right