Оригинален текст
Lil Wayne talking
It's the real s**t, yeah
500 Degreez this time biotch
Yes sir, you already know
Lil Wayne verse 1
You see me? I eat, sleep, s**t, and talk snaps; so fk rap
Man I got weed, pills, pistols, or crack
b*tch where ya hearts at?
Ya'll ain't stuntin' like us
b*tch where ya cars at?
They like, "Wayne why the fk you dressed in all black?"
I'm 'bout to bring CMR back
And all the lames, we done lost that
Now all we got is Weezy, Weezy, and Lil' Weezy to fall back
I'm 'bout to lock it from the summer to the fall and back
"Its Weezy baby!" The boy is back
And the wheels on my car you got a order 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 s**t on them cats
I get on them cats -
Fresh and B it's all a rap!
If I'm the only Hot Boy then what do you call that?
Chorus
You don't want to fk with Weezy
You don't want to fk with Weezy
Lil Wayne
b*tch what? I'll bust ya as* up
Don't even go that round
get your cash up
We probably need to clash up
This s**t got me 'bout to as* up
They finding in they s**t with they as* up
It ain't October 31st but we gone mask up - and guess what
Aye..you know I heard they got some nice chains
And for the right price I'll bust the right brain
And mommy hot cause I pull up in that white thang
Oh but ya nigg* might be fly but I still get trifling
Riding through the city just me and my flame
Friday night special, professional tight thang
A gangsta is who you hearing
I'm in my building with 20 bricks in the ceiling
I'm more real than, I got more scrill than
Got more skill than them there
I'm a Cash Money Millionaire,b*tch
Chorus
You don't want to fk with Weezy
You don't want to fk 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
Than the after party
My Squad stomping in this b*tch
fk 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 ball big - I'm a Tymer man
Son of a Stunna - steady girl fk 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 fking roof
You're barkin' with a big dog, nigg* fking roof
Mr. S-fking-Q - I'm the fking truth
Three stripes, baby nice, lot of ice bucket ooohf!
That's 500 Degreez!
Chorus
You don't want to fk with Weezy
You don't want to fk with Weezy
500..500..500..500..Degreez
b*tch get your mind right, b*tch get your mind right,b*tch get your mind right
