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letra de 500 degreez - lil' wayne

it’s the real sh-t, yeah
500 degreez this time biotch
yes sir, you already know

you see me? i eat, sleep, sh-t, and talk snaps; so f-ck rap
man i got weed, pills, pistols, all crack
b-tch n-gg-s where ya hearts at?
ya’ll ain’t stuntin’ like us
b-tch n-gg-s where ya cars at?
they like, “wayne why the f-ck 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-t 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?

you don’t want to f-ck with weezy
you don’t want to f-ck with weezy

b-tch what? i’ll bust ya -ss up
don’t even go there round
n-gg-s get your cash up
we probably need to clash up
and sh-t got me ’bout -ss up
they finding n-gg-s in they sh-t with they -ss 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-gg- 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 skill than them there
i’m a cash money millionaire

you don’t want to f-ck with weezy
you don’t want to f-ck with weezy
hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy
hot, hot, hot boy

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
me and my squad stomping in this b-tch
f-ck a bachelor 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-ck 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-cking roof
you’re f-cking with a big dog, n-gg- f-cking woof
mr. s-f-cking-q – i’m the f-cking truth
three stripes, baby nice, lot of ice f-cking ooohf!
that’s 500 degreez!

you don’t want to f-ck with weezy
you don’t want to f-ck with weezy
hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy, hot, hot, hot boy
hot, hot, hot boy
b-tch get your mind right, b-tch get your mind right

- lil wayne

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