Ice Cream Lyrics - Lil Wayne

Young Money, syrup in the big shot 

Time to do the thing, that's word to your wrist watch 

Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my wrist lock 

Rims hella big, tires skinny like Chris Rock 

Hold the gun sideways like O-Dog 

Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his nose off 

Make the girls say my name like roll call 

Pain killers got a nigga about to doze off 

Big shit, nigga talk big shit, nigga 

Big bread: bread like a picnic nigga 

Shake the whole game like the hit-stick nigga 

Money spread like germs: get sick nigga 

Yea, and fuck them other niggas 

1-900: who want it? I deliver 

Concrete shoes won't help in the river 

I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my nigga 

I'm higher than the motherfucking Alps my nigga 

I'm flyer than the motherfucking stealth my nigga 

Young Money shit, top-shelf my nigga 

We the motherfuckers like MILF my nigga 

Ahem, flow like syringes 

Yea I'm in my mode, got a code like Da Vinci's 

I was in the trenches, now I'm in the Trump 

And everybody watch your back when you're in the front 

You ain't never safe, stop playing with a gangsta 

Bring it to his face and he ran like a flanker 

Bend the girl over, put her hands on her ankles 

I'm all over this ice cream beat like sprinkles 

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"Why thank you", if you's a hater 

I'm eating, you's a waiter 

Pistol on my hip: Tomb Raider 

Holla at your guala, zoom later 

Young Tune nigga, typhoon nigga 

And if you think you're sweet, buy a room nigga 

Damu nigga 

I'm on my gang shit 

She give me good brain like she studied at Cam 

Lighting up a motherfucking blunt 

Stupid fruity swag like a motherfucking runt 

And I be with my dog like a motherfucker hunting 

Every day of the week is the first of the month 

Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the face 

Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the face 

We can get it popping like a semi automatic 

And if you got beef I put the cuit on a patty 

Rockstar tatted, big-money addict 

Running this shit, now I'm feeling athletic 

I'm on a boat bitch, getting sea sick 

Stop playing, I'm fresher then a degree stick 

Street shit, well, of course I smoke mad weed 

I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I land feet flat 

Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back 

Ha, I need a massage 

And when it comes to hoes, man, I got a collage 

Finger on the button, nigga just stuntin' 

If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me nothin' 

Kush so strong you can smell me comin' 

Bitch, I go hard like the boy from "300" 

You think you kick it, well boy we puntin' 

Young Money baby we the shit weak stomachs 

No Ceilings motherfucker 

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