DJ Drama - No Other lyrics

[Lil Wayne]1 Yeah, straight up D-Boy! Seventeenth ward! Miss Katrina turned my city to a seashore I keep going for them Cohen like Lyor They gon' either respect me or: E.R Burnin' them b**hes like a ci-gar Punk, put a hump in your back, they called it Igor! War? This sh** is hard, any yard where we are We call that c**aine rice, I got that Condoleezza! Huh? You f** with me chump, I rock your teacup I say before you spend a dollar boy, put up the re-up Yep! Get up cause we up, foot up and knee up In the game, put up and shut up, I hit your head up Or go bang; the Birdgang and the Birdman J Lil Wayne, here to hang, other words here to stay Feel my pain, Fireman, I spark in the rain I walk through the flames, yeah, all for the change, yeah Call it insane but I'm a hustler to the muscle And them new drop Bentleys look like p**y in the summer So I'm f**ing that, hugging that, block like I'm loving that Never sell a crumb where my mother at! —run with that You can come at me for beef! —and shots come with that Your b**h come at me for wood! —and I'm the lumberjack! I come in that Similac Maybach, shades black Looking like I'm tryna bring Yay back, ASAP Give it to 'em raw, no Ajax, taste that Heh, f** around and make your face crack I know n***as that, shoot dope, arms looking like a racetrack n***a missed a vein in his neck, his whole face fat! You can't take that? Well I can't take back Where I come from so I learned how to make that Yeah, turn that straight to a G stack Stack up my cheese, now I'm screaming "Where the keys at?" [Juelz Santana] I'm live from, block one, five-one, where my young n***as on the rise to get a name, don't try them —Wayne, I feel your pain and I see your stress How they think your people 'posed to get through Katrina off a FEMA check? Coke in the Pyrex; dope and the ice, yes; Mind on the highway, road signs, right, left And that's the mind-state of kids growin' up Still they wonder why the crime rate's goin up Throw it up: Eastside, Westside, Southside, Northside f** with my money I? Torch guys, off guys Hire men, fire men, send 'em to a higher man (there he go) Torture 'em: Vice grip, pliers man n***as turn to tin foil when they see the iron man Pressure bust pipes, I apply it and Move like a lion through the jungle, yes! There is none higher than: Me Don't slip up and end wind up in the lion's den! Big body Benz idlin', higher than A chick that flight-attend or Air Force flyer man Bad b**hes I fly 'em in, f** 'em Send 'em back home hyped feeling like they on nit-ro-gen Just call me the Pied Piper man Still get the coke through the pipeline, then off to the piper stem And I'm still getting paper back in rubber bands I still got paper bags coming in I still got that mattress with the paper bags under it Comic books, Playboy baby mag under it, still! I still got ties with my guys who don't speak no English Them Vatos, they got those cheapest; Got no green card, got no visas, and got those Pablo features! They drop off and pick up; I pick up then drop off Then drop off what's picked up, and then what? I get it