Lil Wayne, Gudda Gudda - Gumbo lyrics

Yo Pierre, you wanna come out here?
We been out here gangsta, Gangsta Gri-zillz!
6 shit quality street music!
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Never 'bout a bitch, it's 'bout a check
My nigga never 'bout the bitch, about
To check my nigga, that's my nigga!
Make me do construction in your section
Nigga
Rari' doin' donuts, that's my breakfast
Nigga
Okay, you got soldiers, I got veterans, nigga
And I got that white like
One Direction nigga, Kesha, nigga
Only God can judge you, I
Must sentence you to death, my nigga
Yeah, and you are not a topic in my section
Nigga math teacher taught me how to
Count my fucking blessings, nigga
Got married to the fucking mob when I met it
Nigga
Everybody cried at my motherfucking wedding
Nigga
Everybody 5 in my motherfucking section
Nigga
Hoodybaby 6, so numbers lying in my sections
Nigga still got them Bloods, like a
Vessel nigga, that's right, nigga
Tell a blind nigga, "Watch your step
My nigga"
Left-right, nigga, whoa, I let my niggas glow
My niggas don't speak, "Bap
Bap, bap", quote, un-quote
Never had cold feet, stepping out moving snow
Cut the heads off the sheep and
Sit 'em all around the GOAT
O-m w, bmw, n-e w
I got that R-A W, for the L-O W
That's non-refundable, that's L-A W
And we hate deductibles
Like police hate untouchables
They see me in a car then they F-O-L-L-O W
I drive S-L-O W, with that B-L-O W
I like it very colorful when it
Come to my jungle juice
I'm out here yelling "Fuck a truce!"
If he gon' act like Mother Goose, whoa
It's never 'bout the kids, about
The pets, my nigga, no
It's right between the ears, above
The neck, my nigga, whoa
It's very quiet, when you
Hear the weapons, nigga, shh
They verify you by your dental records, nigga
6 shit

Fuck the city up, and I got the glizzy tucked
(Baow) dick hanging from the mop
Look like a billy club
Fliest niggas from the city, bitch
That's really us (geah)
You pussies talking, boo! boo! boo!
Now you really fucked
Ridin' in the range with Maine
We switch lanes (Maine)
With my bottom bitch
Walked the beach in Biscayne (Rrah)
Real P shit, that's that MOB shit
Look at me now
These pussies said I wasn't gon' be shit
(Ah)
Yeah, got a homie named Trel from Hoover
He might shoot you
Red rag hangin' out my right pocket
But I'll blues you (Doot)
When them roosters touch down
We make them bitches cock-a doodle (Woo-woo)
Take a shot at me over a beat, bitch
I'ma shoot you
Got a bitch named Vicky, she pretty
She keep me stiffy
Glock 40 in her purse, don't tempt me
Her finger itchy (Ayy)
She ride so I keep her with me, she shy
But not with that glizzy
She high from hittin' the blizzy
Eyes red like Trippie (Trippie)
Hoody rollin' up
That boy smoke like a hippie (Hippie)
Fill my double cup up with mud, that's right
I'm sipping yeah, retarded with it
I just might be the hardest with it
And you a rat, you be
Politickin' with the Sarge, lieutenant
Fuck all you bitches! Gudda!

Six shit yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah