Album: Young Money Millionaire, Pt. 4
Release Date: 1/1/08
Explicit version of "Whip It" lyrics
Okay
It’s Weezy F baby like a newborn b****
You ain’t know s***
I put your girl to work now
Pimpin’ over here and I ain’t Santa Clause
But yeah
Money out the ass
Yeah
Weezy at the plate
I could bunt it out of here safe as a m***********
Ain’t no safety button on this m***********
Where the safe m***********?
That’s the case
Weezy F the ample fury
Hang 12 witnesses
That’s what I call a hung jury
Brung Jerry Bling Bling
I made that but I don’t even say that
As much as [unverified] say that
That’s way back
Boy you should catch up
It must of been mine
Long hair
Light skin
Phat ass
Pretty feet
Walking down the street
‘Cause I put her out my jeep
I don’t save ‘em
They want Weezy F
I bad grade ‘em
I serenade ‘em
100 on the chest
Rings so thick I can’t even make a fist
Nigga
‘Cause I do it like this
Yeah
And every time I do it I do my thang
Yeah
And every time I do it I do my thang
Kunta Kinte on my s***
Like I ate a plate of roots for dinner
But I ate a plate of loot for dinner
I’m in the garden sellin’ fruit to sinners
Like apples to Shaq
And do remember just like Brenda
2 grand still get ya four and a baby
I’ma kill ‘em when I drop like I’m holdin’ a baby
Weezy F
The F is for don’t forget the baby
And b****
But you don’t know me from Satan
And if you’re Manning up
You better show me you’re Peyton
But you p****** ain’t ballin’
Not lathen?
Bricks get shipped
Dr. Carter
Yeah
But now watch me and my chain
Yes
Deuce Bigalow on these he b******
Flu flow
Flyer then Bird Coupe like a two door
What do you know?
I know the streets b****
And this is my toilet
And you can eat s***
Got them girls in my bathroom with their asses out
’Cause I’m fly like flyers they passin’ out
We mashin’ out
I got that 12 gauge don’t make me 1 2 ya
3 4 5 train b****
If you ain’t on my train
Like you got my dick in your mizouth
And I’ma do me
S*** always right sometimes
And from the top everybody look 1’9
And I’m 2’much
The numbers don’t lie
And if they stop makin’ Cadillac’s
I swear I’m gon’ die
And if the weed man
Don’t have no more onions I’ma cry
And if yif was a piff then I’d rather drink wine
S***
Now
’Cause I’m tired of ballin’ darlin’
And I roll with my riders like it’s Harley party
And we roll with them choppers like it’s a Harley party
We are all dressed in red like it’s a scarlet party
I was ballin’ in New Orleans way before the Charlotte Hornets
I’m an X man
Put the dirty dishes in the sank
No pork but I get paid like a piggy bank
I spit like backwash
No back talk
But I bet that money find me
Your jewelry telling jokes
You got them funny diamonds
I got them sunny diamonds
I got them money problems
That Christopher Wallace
F*** b******
Young money
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