Bird Call

[Hook - J.R. Writer] To all my hustlers, rock smugglers, strugglers Block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers Whats the word y'all, flip that herb, raw Clap...that's the byrd call If the cops are coming, get to hop and running Quick and drop that onion -- ain't no stopping, young'un Put away that herb, raw, let us know the word or Clap...that's the byrd call [Verse 1 - J.R. Writer] I still be where the weed flip, in the P's with the trees lit So much water in the order, it's just leaving them seasick With a ski in my V6, trying to skeet on a b lips Down low, like I'm trying to keep her a secret Act wrong, chrome, passing me dome Next minute -- shit, I'm finished; she'll be flagging it home But I always keep a straggler that's known to bone And run through a lap faster than Marion Jones Man listen, I still got them grams flipping, tan pitching Corner to the damn kitchen Gained a couple fans, had to make a transition But I'm still in the hood like a transmission No cat can match me, I'm passing fastly -- who's half as nasty? I got it locked from here all the way to Cak-a-lacky But keep a Mac for Scrappy, thinking its just laffy taffy Shit, this beat'll be the only thing clapping at me [Hook] [Verse 2- Lil' Wayne] Birdman J.R. and J.R. -- pigeons know who they are Niggas gotta pay off Snitches know to say y'all If chickens on the radar, I’m at it Cause I get it on my day off, ain't nothing like getting weight off Scrape off the plates, shake off the flakes Bad daddy make all the cake I gotta lay off, the way y'all hate me like I’m Adolf But y'all can't see me: Ray Charles I steal whores I’ll probably take yours Because you peel off and I take off Give me no space; whatever I want I takes Whatever I need I bleed and succeed Bitch nigga, don’t breathe on the weed I’m fucking with them birds Without feeding them seeds, that’s creed -- you don’t know about it Full clip how I go about it, full body Hard body, I’m like "God got 'im" [Hook] [Verse 3 - Cam'ron] "Damn, homie In high school you was the man, homie" That's what a fan told me, shit Same old cat, get his Kangol clapped Brains blown back; dissing Dame, Dame don't rap Shame on black, the game's so whack Dame sonned you children From in front of your building right to a hundred million G'head pimp it, pimping; g'head act up, doggy Get your limp on, pimping; if they acting froggy Tell 'em back up off me; I come down, clap the forty cal That's a badder story, not in my category Mess around, Dame held Def Jam down Pardon my back, jacking and the left hand pounds Redneck found, Tec Tec pound Duck duck goose, pump pump shoot Shoot, lets get down It may seem petty, but we all turn mean deadly For green-fetti -- my whole team ready [Hook] [Verse 4 - J.R. Writer] This ain't only bars and tracks, this is for the hardest cats Flipping all the hard in back, make them catch a heart attack When you see the narcs attack, let me know -- start to clap, clap, clap A star with a deal, Chopard be on chill The car is DeVille It's real ill, heart in the grill It's foreign, my nills Cruise the city with the semi or the celly On skinnies like I'm starving my wheels