Young Money Hospital

Lyrics
[Verse 1: Gudda Gudda] Young Money Hospital, I am so sick Kill you and your dogs, you can call me Mike Vick I'ma get, get silly, sick, sick with it Foolish like Shawty Lo, and I'ma get, get, get it Stick shift kitted, Maserati orange Got my top let back with the Kamikaze doors Hoes all over me, crazy, no controllin' me I hop up in them draws and put that dick up in her ovaries Gudda, bitch, you know it's me, I spit cooked coke So when I rap, it comes out like a quarter key Conduct disorderly, .44 bulldogs barkin', start sparkin' And rip out your arteries [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Uhh Umm, fresh off the Carter 3 Money ain't a thing mothafucker, it's the only thing Ha ha, bitch, don't bother me My car so big, the license plate says "pardon me" Yeah, Louie V lokes on And my jewelry just singin' like a slow song Young Moola, bitch You fuckin' with some soldiers, "hoorah" bitch Hollygrove gangsta, mixtape mangler Wheels on the coupe, lips bigger than Tapanga's Two middle fingers, you don't know my anger Better call the rangers, but you gon' need the angels No homo, I got money out the anus And I got the girls screamin' "please Lil Wayne us" Let me explain this I'm like Travis Barker, I got stripes, I'm strapped and I'm famous I tell myself you ought to be shameless I pop a pill, and now I feel painless And I'ma shoot that if I aim this And I ain't talkin' 'bout no motherfuckin' sidekick Like, I fuck that other side bitch East-side I ride around, you know who you ride with Then I'm at the hospital, if you survive it Then I'm at your funeral just to see ya body Pussy nigga, I'm a hitman And when it comes to pussy, nigga, I'm a clit man Haha, shit, man, I got your girl on my arm like a wrist band And anything I do my clique can They can lean on me like a kickstand I'ma take us to the top And know it's not a rumor, it's the rock
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Credits
- Writers
- Gudda Gudda
- Lil Wayne
- J.R. Rotem