Birdman, Lil Wayne - Like Father Like Son lyrics

There ain't no love like
Like father like son, nigga

Yeah it's filthy with quarter ki's in
The kitchen on 'em
Tha block is hot but we out
Here gettin it on 'em
And keep a tool everytime we hit the streets
Cause these niggas act a fool and we
Be quick to put it on 'em
Them tear drops homie we so not
The nigga to fuck with cause we will pop
40 cal keep it cocked nigga ready to block
Keep a gun a extra clip
Homie thats how we rock
And like father like son
Daddy we don't borrow
We stay on the grind homie
Cause we grind harder
And fuckin with me homie you won't like
You be the next t-shirt
We in ya hood all night
We got birds flyin out and
We've allowed the pipes
We do this state to state
Thing and cheat the price
And Rufus came home and I told him to shave
But he was tellin me about them
Pussy niggas back in the eighties, baby


Listen
Birdman put me on when I was just eleven
He was my teacher
So I was like fuck the lesson
He was my preacher
So I was like fuck the reverend
My mother Cita
She said that I was with the devil
My mother Cita
Now say that he was sent from heaven
So, I take heed to every single
Word that he tell me
And I remember what my poppa told me
Remember what my poppa told me, Young Stunna

Yeah im out c'here homie pitchin the game
And yes I do the whole thing
Nigga give me my change
Yes we do them old things
Out the brand new Range
Little nigga like his father
Homie doin his thing
We keep the gun for paper
Homie aimed and cocked
Every nigga in my circle homie ready to pop
We be ridin drop tops thats just how we rock
And ill be ridin in the Phantom
Through my up town blocks nigga

Alright money on my mind
Look III I hear you niggas wisperin
I say wisperin cause you niggas
Ain't hollerin bout shit
Po' pussy ass niggas gangster and me
Look Birdman jr fuck the world pops
And we gon keep it movin
Even if the world stops
Stay strapped and laced like girl socks
Stay dapped and drapped like a birthday cake
Birthdays was the worst days
Now we sippin' on Louis when we thirsty
Ya know, I do believe the moneys cursed me
So I pray to God that
The devil don't murk me, uh
Little Wizzle but you bitches
Call me first place and papa taught me paper
Chase never skirt chase
I put you niggas in the
Closet in the shirt space
You niggas yellow like Sesame
Street Bert's face
Worst case scenario, burial
Two tone Carara like Mascara, uh
The G4 take your boy where ever
Like father, like son the era, nigga