Lyrics

[Verse 1: Juelz Santana] Face numb, taste some Fiends come back for this here Grade A, A1 And one like the ball players Everything I cook come back and some I'm a boss player I cook good make it look good, damn straight Put coke in the pot, take out pancakes Double stacks, triple stacks, why not? I got that syrup too, just call me iHop Yes, I been involved with killas You know, cold hearted niggas, narcotic dealers Yes, you ever seen a chick straight from Colombia Shit dope out, clean it, taste it in front of ya But the dope flow was slow in my area The coke flow was woah in my area And woah meant dough in my area You know I sold that woah like woah in my area, woah (?), po po in my area Gotta get low from my area What I do? I gave a chick a BBT A brick and a bus ticket then she meets me (where?) New town, same plan, shut it down New grounds, same land Columbus found American dreams, American fiends I got to get money by any American means Now that's an American Idol Hustla, soldier bearing his rifle when the wars on Well the wars on, call off backup 'Fore all y'all wind up all gone Blocka! The four long leave big holes The size of windows doctors can't stitch closed I get this cake, get it straight I pick up 2 bricks a day that's what I call lifting weights All while tryna dodge prison gates I refuse to get caught be a number of the state I'm trynna have a number every state And a place I can lay when I come through every state I'm straight Got it down packed, pack down shorty You late, still using that black ground coffee My car smelling like mustard That ain't what I ate boy that's just how I smuggle it Buss it Got 2 bricks in the front, 2 bricks in the back Thats four bricks riding with me in this Cadillac But, I'm more of an out of town nigga Long as I know some out of town niggas I'm good there Yea, I don't wait for paper I locate the paper Then go chase the paper, there I go Stay focused every place I'm strapped in Cause niggas get killed for delayed reactions So one late reaction you'll be laid and packed in That casket, the wake's on friday [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Get it, I got it, I know what to do with it Put it on the stove and make two of it Hit me on the low the snakes movin' through the grass I'm ridin' with a kilo, a Uzi and a mask Doobie full of hash, rollin' like ? I might fuck her twice then she'll leave like trees Since I'm on my feet, them hoes on they knees Cheddar not Swiss, ain't no holes in my cheese Come through in a buggy on them hoes on threes, nigga I wear the .44 like Lee's, nigga Swagger so cold I'ma freeze these niggas I hustle with the mob and I eat with killers Bitch get bread, we gotta be fed, or we put ya on ya ass, give the boy a street bed Like today's the last, we on the grizz-ind You know what time it is, it's all about this time Long body Maybach hoe, like I'm 6'9" You niggas ain't riders, so I'ma let ya bitch ride Hard exterior—pussy on the inside Hey little sharkie, you can get fish-fried You can get pig-tied, to the bumper of the truck, put it in drive (gone!) Haha You fuck boy faggot, check my jacket, boy I been gettin' money like federal taxes, haha I never relax, I'd rather get stacks, they say money ain't everything but I look better with that Bitch They better get back, I'm tellin' 'em that, I won't - Tell 'em again, next time it'd be "BRAAT" Haha To ya hat, how you like that? Elz, they face might crack Ugh!