Lil Wayne - Gossip lyrics

I hate gossip
And I don't walk around looking for it
You know? But, yesterday it seemed to just
Wander around 'til it found me
You know like, the gossip found me
Then why don't try provin' it?
How? You don't know how to prove it?
Well, what you just do is, stop
(Streetrunner)

Stop hatin' on a nigga
That is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga
And you can get tipped like
You're waitin' on a nigga
Put a body bag and a apron on a nigga
I give my all behind the mic
But you can never see if
You sit behind the light
And you don't have to pick me
To win the title fight
But I'mma wear that championship
Belt so tight
And if I'm wrong, there is no right
And if I'm wrong, there is Snow White
I'm tryna be polite
But you bitches in my hair
Like the fuckin' po-lice
And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice
These other rappers bark
Some of 'em even bite
But I'm much more bright
I give the game sight
So before you dim the light, you just might
Might wanna

Think it over o-o-o oh, think it over
Think it over, baby baby (Get 'em)

Stop! Analyzing, criticizing
You should realize what I
Am and start epitomizing
Legitimate, I got the heart
Of the biggest lion
I'm confident, like fuck 'em all
Pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick, so sick
It's like my shit is dying
It rains a lot in my
City because my city's crying
Because my city's dying
Still I emerge from all of that
I am a living pion–eer, near Zion
Fear God, not them, steer my robin coupe
Through the streets of the Boot, and soo-woo!
And then I leak blood in the booth
I leave a bloodbath
Sorry, there's a tub in the booth
Now where the drugs at?
I'm twisted like the strings on
A shoe, no, nigga, fuck that
I'm twisted like the strings on a boot
Now where New Orleans at?
I feel hip-hop stole me like a bus pass
So in your possession, III must ask
Hey, haven't I been good to you?
(Think it over) Tell me
Haven't I been sweet to you?

Drag my name through the mud
I come out clean
Cast away stones, I won't even blink
A gun is not a math problem
I won't even think
Just leave you dead like the
Mink under my sink
Don't believe in me, don't believe me
I graduated from hungry and made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it
But I'm gon' need cheese if I'm baking a ziti
You niggas want beef, I want
A steak, and, uh, we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be
Hardbody nigga just takin' it easy
All about my paper, 'bout my paper like E-Z
Wider wrappers, why do rappers lie to fans
Lie to rappers?
Lot of rappers lie like actors
Cut the motherfuckin' cameras
Cut the check, nigga, fuck your props
And make it out to "Mr hip-Hop"

I'm not dead, I'm alive