lirik lagu dj drama & lil wayne - i'm the best rapper alive
lil’ wayne:
bring the crowd and i’m loud in livin’ color
it is weezy f-ckin’ baby got these rappers in my stomach,yummy
i’m takin’ it i ain’t askin’ ’em for nothin’
if you sell a million records we could battle for your money
i’d rather count a hundred thousand dollars on a sunday
watch a football game and bet it all on one play
still stuntin’ baby yes i’m still flossin’ latest car on the market with the top peeled off it
big wheels make it look a little bulky, you look a little salty have yourself a chilled coffee
chill out the girls is still out, even though i am a boss i got papers to fill out
i’m busy i got paper to reel in, god i hope they steppin’ at the end of my rod
i hope i’m fishin’ in the right pond
and i hope you catchin’ onto every line
who am i?
hook:
the best rapper alive (yep) x4
swagger right (check)
game tight
and they gone r-e-s-p-e-c-t me
who?
the best rapper alive (yep) x4
swagger right (check)
game tight
and you should be afraid, be very afraid, yeah!
the heart of new orleans
thumpin’ and beatin, living and breathin’
stealin’ and feedin’, peelin’ and leavin’
k!llin’ and grievin’, dearly departed
erased deleted
no prints no plates, no face no trace
out of sight out of mind, no court no case
sell his chains, celebrate
block party, 2nd lines, zulu ball
essence fest, jazz fest, mardi gras
shorty bounce, body rock
now he drop, now he got family
try tell a fed, tell a cop
smell a rat comin’ back to the house to the spot
tap-tap, knock-knock
who is that? (ch- ch- wop!)
triggaman, hoodieman
tell the kids boogieman
pistol pete, ammo mammal, gunman, blum blam! ha ha
d-mn sammy you done f–ked up
p-ssy -ss n-ggas put ya nuts up
just call me:
hook
‘f-ck up wit all these rookie mcs
you smell like a bunch of p-ssy to me, f-ck ’em!
f-ck ’em good, f-ck ’em long, f–k ’em hard
f-ck who? f-ck ’em all! (yep)
like that yeah just like that
right back i’m on that money train and that mack’ll knock ’em off track
the quarterback, well protected from the warren sapps
the young heart attack, i spit that cardiac
you can’t see me baby boy you got that cataracts
i’m right here straight out the hood just like an alley cat
since everyone’s a king’ll where the f-ck your palace at
me i got callus on my hands, i can handle that
it’s no problem, baby i so got it
it’s just a victory lap, baby i’m just joggin’
yeah, and i ain’t even out of breath
the m-th-f-ckin’ best yet, sorry for cussin’
who?
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