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Lil Wayne - Gossip [Bet Hip-Hop Awards]

Piesa Lil Wayne Gossip [Bet Hip-Hop Awards] face parte de pe albumul The Carter Show , lansat in anul 2008 la casa de discuri Worldstar Records .

Versuri Lil Wayne - Gossip [Bet Hip-Hop Awards]



I hate gossip and I don't walk around lookin' for it, you know? 
But yesterday it seemed to just wander on till it found me 
You know like, gossip found me, then why don't you try provin' it 
How? You don't know how to prove it? 
Well, what would you just do is 
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop 
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop 
 
Stop, hatin' on a nigga that is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga 
And you can get tipped like ya waitin' on a nigga 
Put a body bag and an apron on the nigga 
 
I give my all behind the mic 
But you could never see, if you sit behind the light 
You don't have to pick me to win the title fight 
But I'm gone wear that championship belt so tight 
 
And if I'm wrong, there is no right 
And if I'm wrong, there is no white 
I'm tryna to be polite 
But you bitches in my hair like to fuckin' pull lice 
 
And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice 
These other rappers bark, some of 'em even bite 
But I'm much more bright, I give the game sight 
So before you dim the light you just might, might wanna 
 
Think it over 
(Think it over) 
Ooh, think it over 
(Think it over baby, baby) 
 
Get 'em 
Stop, analyzin' criticizin' 
You should realize what I am and start epitomizin' 
Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion 
I'm confident like fuck 'em all pull out my dick and ride it 
 
My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dyin' 
It rains a lot in my city, because my city's cryin' 
Because my city's dyin' still I emerge from all of that 
I am a livin' pion-eer, near Zion 
 
Fear God, not them 
Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot and soowoop 
And, then I leave blood in a boot, I leave a blood bath 
Sorry there's a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at? 
 
I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, no nigga bug that 
I'm twisted like the strings on a boot 
Now at New Orleans at 
 
I feel your pop stole me like a bus pass 
So in your possession, ah ah, I must ask 
 
Hey, haven't I been good to you? 
(Think it over) 
Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you? 
 
Drag my name through the mud 
I come out clean cast away stones 
I won't even blink 
A gun is not a math problem 
I won't even think 
 
Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink 
Don't believe in me, don't believe me 
I've graduated from hungry 
And made it to greedy 
 
My flow is like pasta 
Take it and eat it 
But I'm gone need g's 
If I'm bakin' the zeedy 
 
You niggas want beef? 
I want a steak and uh, we be 
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where we be 
Hard body nigga, just takin' it easy 
All about my paper, 'bout my paper like Eazy 
 
Why do rappers? Why do rappers? 
Lie to fans, lie to rappers, lot of rappers 
Lie like actin', cut the mothafuckin' cameras 
Cut the check nigga fuck your props 
And make it out to Mr.Hip Hop 
 
I'm not dead I'm alive


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