500 Degreez Lyrics - 500 Degreez - Lil Wayne

It's the real shit, yeah 

500 Degreez this time biotch 

Yes sir, you already know 

You see me? I eat, sleep, shit, and talk snaps; so fuck rap 

Man I got weed, pills, pistols, all crack 

Bitch niggas where ya hearts at? 

Ya'll ain't stuntin' like us 

Bitch niggas where ya cars at? 

They like, "Wayne why the fuck you dressed in all black?" 

I'm about to bring CMR back 

And all the lames, we done lost that 

And all we got is Weezy, Weezy, and Lil' Weezy to fall back 

I'm about to lock it from the summer to the fall and back 

"Its Weezy baby!" The ballers back 

And the wheels on my car you got all of that 

Stop playing, I've been balling jack 

You don't want my glock spraying - I hit all them cats 

You don't want my stomach ache - I shit on them cats 

I get all them gats - Fresh and B it's all a rap! 

If I'm the only Hot Boy what do you call that? 

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You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

Bitch what? I'll bust ya ass up 

Don't even go there round 

Niggas get your cash up 

We probably need to clash up 

And shit got me 'bout ass up 

They finding niggas in they shit with they ass up 

It ain't October 31st but we gone mask up - and guess what 

And I heard they got a nice chain 

And for the right price I'll bust the right brain 

And mommy hot cause pull up in that white thang 

Yo nigga might be fly but I still get trifling 

Riding through the city just me and my friend 

Friday night special, professional tight aim 

A gangsta is who you hearing 

Me in my building with 20 bricks in the ceiling 

I'm more real than, I got more scrill than 

Got more skill than them there 

I'm a Cash Money Millionaire 

Photos 

You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy 

Hot, Hot, Hot Boy 

Baby let me get the keys to the rover 

No, let me get the keys to the house in Eastover 

So I can throw a 500 Degreez platinum party 

Than the after party 

Me and my Squad stomping in this bitch 

Fuck a bachelor party 

Don't go to rapper parties - I'm no rapper man 

But when the homies come home we throw a monster jam 

And all my people tote chrome - we some monsters man 

We gone mob to the promise land 

I bought big - I'm a Tymer man 

Son of a Stunna - still a girl fuck with a hustler! 

Weezy keep it gutter for ya Baby Bubba 

Baby blue Mercedes Coupe - Got it bullet proof 

Make me shoot my 80 duke at your fucking roof 

You're fucking with a big dog, nigga fucking woof 

Mr. S-Fucking-Q - I'm the fucking truth 

Three stripes, baby nice, lot of ice fucking ooohf! 

That's 500 Degreez! 

You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

You don't want to fuck with Weezy 

Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy 

Hot, Hot, Hot Boy 

Bitch get your mind right, Bitch get your mind right