Rick Ross, Lil Wayne, Ransom, DJ Clue? - Clear Da Scene lyrics
Rick Ross [William Leonard Roberts II] Clarksdale, Mississippi, U.S. 🇺🇸
Lil Wayne [Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.] New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Rick Ross, Lil Wayne, Ransom, DJ Clue? - Clear Da Scene lyrics]
Fresher than a mothafuckin' cocaine pusher
Got work under the stairs
Got the gun in the bushes
Anybody want beef, come and meet the butcher
Bring the punk out of a
Nigga like Ashton Kutcher
Fuck you pay me! like nasty hookers
I got that recipe they tell
Me "pass the cook book"
Fuckin wit lil' weezy baby
That's a good look so hop your ass on the
Good book and sha mon'
I ain't really that nigga that you
Would want to front on
I put ya whole life on ya front lawn come on
Son on that shit that none on, gun on
I can drive the whip and work
The tooly while with one arm
That's word to my mom
She worry if I'ma come home
I tell her don't trip
I'm runnin' this bitch
A nigga just gettin' his stunt on
Number one stunner junior! hallelujah!
Fuck ya! I wish I never knew ya! PEACE!
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do they thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
My hustle is gettin' gully
You fuckers will get it from me
I touch 'em with every dummy
My duffel is filled with money
You pop your lip and get ya man shot boy!
I make 'em lean and rock
Like Dem Franchise Boyz!
You couldn't joust wit me
Nigga there ain't no doubt wit me
You run your mouth to me
I go hang you over ya balcony
They got it out for me
Don't gotta spell it out for me jersey boy
Got the whole city that could vouch for me
Don't try to play homie I'll
Pull the eighty out, fade ya out
Put what you was thinkin' on ya lady blouse
This a great rookie, ransom, pray for me
Take a chance
Put this ape on like a bapes hooded
I heard 'em all
Merk'em all wit that dirty four
Servin raw, till I'm thirty-four
That's a jersey boy
That's weezy f, ransom, grease yes!
Hand guns, bland one, go ahead
Bleed to death
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I'ma whip that dope like a
Nigga 'posed to do
Hundred thousand dollar whips when
The boat roll through
Triple c's, my people we triple g's
While you looking all crooked
My niggas they quick to squeeze!
Slap you with the four five
Bitch who you rapping 'bout
When it come to weight
When I rick ross max it out
I'm the one that they askin' bout
In the aston martin, weed sparkin'
Flickin' ashes out
Rick Ross will never ask you out
When I get your number I'ma come
And hunt your fuckin mouth
You gotta suck dick, if you wanna touch chips
? 3 5 7 can't touch this
I9 5, I traffic my body weight
In the big body Benz
Got the whole body laid straight!
You straight!? I hope ya ass is
I'll leave ya ass as is
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
Got work under the stairs
Got the gun in the bushes
Anybody want beef, come and meet the butcher
Bring the punk out of a
Nigga like Ashton Kutcher
Fuck you pay me! like nasty hookers
I got that recipe they tell
Me "pass the cook book"
Fuckin wit lil' weezy baby
That's a good look so hop your ass on the
Good book and sha mon'
I ain't really that nigga that you
Would want to front on
I put ya whole life on ya front lawn come on
Son on that shit that none on, gun on
I can drive the whip and work
The tooly while with one arm
That's word to my mom
She worry if I'ma come home
I tell her don't trip
I'm runnin' this bitch
A nigga just gettin' his stunt on
Number one stunner junior! hallelujah!
Fuck ya! I wish I never knew ya! PEACE!
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do they thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
My hustle is gettin' gully
You fuckers will get it from me
I touch 'em with every dummy
My duffel is filled with money
You pop your lip and get ya man shot boy!
I make 'em lean and rock
Like Dem Franchise Boyz!
You couldn't joust wit me
Nigga there ain't no doubt wit me
You run your mouth to me
I go hang you over ya balcony
They got it out for me
Don't gotta spell it out for me jersey boy
Got the whole city that could vouch for me
Don't try to play homie I'll
Pull the eighty out, fade ya out
Put what you was thinkin' on ya lady blouse
This a great rookie, ransom, pray for me
Take a chance
Put this ape on like a bapes hooded
I heard 'em all
Merk'em all wit that dirty four
Servin raw, till I'm thirty-four
That's a jersey boy
That's weezy f, ransom, grease yes!
Hand guns, bland one, go ahead
Bleed to death
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I'ma whip that dope like a
Nigga 'posed to do
Hundred thousand dollar whips when
The boat roll through
Triple c's, my people we triple g's
While you looking all crooked
My niggas they quick to squeeze!
Slap you with the four five
Bitch who you rapping 'bout
When it come to weight
When I rick ross max it out
I'm the one that they askin' bout
In the aston martin, weed sparkin'
Flickin' ashes out
Rick Ross will never ask you out
When I get your number I'ma come
And hunt your fuckin mouth
You gotta suck dick, if you wanna touch chips
? 3 5 7 can't touch this
I9 5, I traffic my body weight
In the big body Benz
Got the whole body laid straight!
You straight!? I hope ya ass is
I'll leave ya ass as is
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag
And the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the
Magazine on my lap clear the scene!
Clear the scene! Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing