N/A - Mixtape Murda lyrics

[Lil Wayne ad lib intro:] Yea!... n***a this the young god Weezy Baby, what's yo name catty? T Streets: This T Streets n***a Wayne: My n***a Street's telling me he need me and Gudda to eat a few n***as' back up Gudda Gudda: Murda murda, steal steal Uh huh… holla at ya dude man call the coroner man the track has just been murdered [Verse 1: Wayne] Hear me out… I – step up in this mutha f**a, chest up Only Hot Boy left up, in this mutha – Other n***as slept up, but I kept up n***as stepped down, but I stepped up – in this mutha f**a Let the Sqad up in this mutha f**a Keep yo wilding up, we tear the whole side up, in this mutha f**a South side up in this mutha f**a Shots fired outside or – you and ya guys could die up in this mutha f**a Young, Southern, Mutha f**a: Weezy Baby/Raw Tune Not a cartoon, send a harpoon to your hearts soon if you walk too Close to me ??? Can't see my flows, I practice notes with the ghosts, no joke I'm realer than 16 days after 9/11; September 27th Happy Birthday Weezy... n***a… [Verse 2: Gudda Gudda] Yea n***a, this Gudda Gudda All my street n***as stand up, all my gudda n***as stand up, I'mma give it to ya'll like this (Gudda) Look Listen – I Aim the thunder squeeze at ya shoulders, the ??? will puff and breeze your granola It's anger, hunger, he's just a soldier It's gangster Gudda – Gudda mutha f**a What another mutha f**a going to tell 'high yellow'? Slim cat, send em where his brim at and trim that And at your funeral – I don't know why they sing “This Little Light of Mine” cause I dim that I'm on that stem that Weezy get from Cam and the Dip'mats Ya'll can't get that Flowin off the sh** that – come out that fat booga sack Now I'm in the back with the Mac like: “What you lookin at?” f** I got to quit that Never that, rude cat, get back Cool presence, but I merk anyone fool present Fool I'm the neighborhood's dude's message And got you n***as… [Verse 3: Wayne] Ye-aaaah! That's Gudda, n***a! I'm about to burn this sh** back up You know what I'm saying? Hear your boy out Listen n***a This this South And who can give it to you like me has been given But you aren't here till you like me So therefore, their who*es till they like me This sh** is Hell boy – or what it might be I'm 90 proof hustler, 10% human Whip the sh** ??? Strip the strip boomin Get the script screwed in Nina Ross get the script screwed and Get yo click screwed up Me and my click screwed up – like the Screwed Up Click Got the purple juice poured up, the Sqad Up sip Then the purple coupe pulled up, like: “Sqad Up's Here” Got b**hes riding with n***as like: “Let Me Out of Here” My flow is very out-of-here Listen ma I know I say I get us here – But look then your baby boy got a year Now I have not-a-fear… f** ya'll! Gudda come back... [Verse 4: Gudda] Gudda: Man ya'll don't want that trouble, that's a bunch of trouble right there, man ya'll don't want… But I'm going to give it to ya'll one more time, one more time Gudda! Look, look… I move with the tool on the waistline, shoes on the grey 5 Blues any fool tryna take mine Been a fool since I was yay high Stay high puffin Hershey, eyes yay high Mommy wanna ride with me you gotta Maz mine That mean put your f**in face by my waistline Gudda goin hard at a b**h I don't waste time I'm from that Stateline where n***as get there cake right to bake pies This the city where the blocks is burnin Rocks is burnin The sh** that keep yo pockets splurging It's Gudda Gudda, watch the wheels win the drop is turnin Like my wrist: alotta ice when the watch is turnin Not concerned with – dope fiends whose pockets hurtin Sqad Up. When we drop, sh**'s locked for certain... [Verse 5: Wayne] Wayne: sh**'s locked, click clack man Check me… They say I'm too young to know about the sh** I be talking about See that's the type of sh** I be talking about But f** the world and what they talking about If you ain't talking about this, then you aren't talking about sh** Listen, I got a quarter of block I stretch it, let it hard and it rock Then show the hood what a bargain about -f** I got shop I call it stock But not on Wall Street, I put this sh** on Ya'll Street so ya''ll ??? Word to the highest above – If so happens my raps don't fly I'll flip pies and such Use my, school knowledge, mix science with d** And I'm smart enough to know that I'm going to die as a thug n***a life's nothing but getting high off the bud Cause after that I feel like I could just die in love For the streets: I got dying love Two tear drops are crying for, all my dying thugs Embrace my pistol, with bear-lion hugs Keep trying, your lying blood Man n***a, I breathe Iron man My heart put lion blood And when I roll, I grow wings and flow high above – (Music ends) Birdman, Jr. in the skies above The turbulence in the air make my tires rub "I'm about to drop down Phe, Line me Up" Perfect landing like (whistle) boom! High, what's up?