Mixtape Murda

[Lil Wayne ad lib intro:] Yea!... nigga this the young god Weezy Baby, what’s yo name catty? T Streets: This T Streets nigga Wayne: My nigga Street’s telling me he need me and Gudda to eat a few niggas’ back up Gudda Gudda: Murda murda, steal steal Uh huh… holla at ya dude man call the coroner man the track has just been murdered [Verse 1: Wayne] Hear me out… I – step up in this mutha fucka, chest up Only Hot Boy left up, in this mutha – Other niggas slept up, but I kept up Niggas stepped down, but I stepped up – in this mutha fucka Let the Sqad up in this mutha fucka Keep yo wilding up, we tear the whole side up, in this mutha fucka South side up in this mutha fucka Shots fired outside or – you and ya guys could die up in this mutha fucka Young, Southern, Mutha Fucka: Weezy Baby/Raw Tune Not a cartoon, send a harpoon to your hearts soon if you walk too Close to me ??? Can’t see my flows, I practice notes with the ghosts, no joke I’m realer than 16 days after 9/11; September 27th Happy Birthday Weezy... nigga… [Verse 2: Gudda Gudda] Yea nigga, this Gudda Gudda All my street niggas stand up, all my gudda niggas stand up, I’mma give it to ya’ll like this (Gudda) Look Listen – I Aim the thunder squeeze at ya shoulders, the ??? will puff and breeze your granola It’s anger, hunger, he’s just a soldier It’s gangster Gudda – Gudda mutha fucka What another mutha fucka going to tell 'high yellow'? Slim cat, send em where his brim at and trim that And at your funeral – I don’t know why they sing “This Little Light of Mine” cause I dim that I’m on that stem that Weezy get from Cam and the Dip’mats Ya’ll can’t get that Flowin off the shit that – come out that fat booga sack Now I’m in the back with the Mac like: “What you lookin at?” Fuck I got to quit that Never that, rude cat, get back Cool presence, but I merk anyone fool present Fool I’m the neighborhood’s dude’s message And got you niggas… [Verse 3: Wayne] Ye-aaaah! That’s Gudda, Nigga! I’m about to burn this shit back up You know what I’m saying? Hear your boy out Listen Nigga This this South And who can give it to you like me has been given But you aren't here till you like me So therefore, their whores till they like me This shit is Hell boy – or what it might be I’m 90 proof hustler, 10% human Whip the shit ??? Strip the strip boomin Get the script screwed in Nina Ross get the script screwed and Get yo click screwed up Me and my click screwed up – like the Screwed Up Click Got the purple juice poured up, the Sqad Up sip Then the purple coupe pulled up, like: “Sqad Up’s Here” Got bitches riding with niggas like: “Let Me Out of Here” My flow is very out-of-here Listen ma I know I say I get us here – But look then your baby boy got a year Now I have not-a-fear… Fuck ya’ll! Gudda come back... [Verse 4: Gudda] Gudda: Man ya’ll don’t want that trouble, that’s a bunch of trouble right there, man ya’ll don’t want… But I’m going to give it to ya’ll one more time, one more time Gudda! Look, look… I move with the tool on the waistline, shoes on the grey 5 Blues any fool tryna take mine Been a fool since I was yay high Stay high puffin Hershey, eyes yay high Mommy wanna ride with me you gotta Maz mine That mean put your fuckin face by my waistline Gudda goin hard at a bitch I don’t waste time I’m from that Stateline where niggas get there cake right to bake pies This the city where the blocks is burnin Rocks is burnin The shit that keep yo pockets splurging It’s Gudda Gudda, watch the wheels win the drop is turnin Like my wrist: alotta ice when the watch is turnin Not concerned with – dope fiends whose pockets hurtin Sqad Up. When we drop, shit’s locked for certain... [Verse 5: Wayne] Wayne: Shit’s locked, click clack man Check me… They say I’m too young to know about the shit I be talking about See that’s the type of shit I be talking about But fuck the world and what they talking about If you ain't talking about this, then you aren't talking about shit Listen, I got a quarter of block I stretch it, let it hard and it rock Then show the hood what a bargain about -Fuck I got shop I call it stock But not on Wall Street, I put this shit on Ya’ll Street so ya’’ll ??? Word to the highest above – If so happens my raps don’t fly I’ll flip pies and such Use my, school knowledge, mix science with drugs And I’m smart enough to know that I’m going to die as a thug Nigga life’s nothing but getting high off the bud Cause after that I feel like I could just die in love For the streets: I got dying love Two tear drops are crying for, all my dying thugs Embrace my pistol, with bear-lion hugs Keep trying, your lying blood Man nigga, I breathe Iron man My heart put lion blood And when I roll, I grow wings and flow high above – (Music ends) Birdman, Jr. in the skies above The turbulence in the air make my tires rub "I’m about to drop down Phe, Line me Up" Perfect landing like (whistle) boom! High, what's up?