YM Inkredible Lyrics by Lil Wayne (feat. Thugga, Raw Dizzy, Flow & T@)
I pop some Percocets, then I pop some Xanax
Sittin’ back, strapped, cocked, plottin’ on your man next
Jack a n**** for his work and stretch it like some Spandex
He hesitate, I spray and leave him like a Tampex
Oops, I meant a Tampax, bitch, I keep that anthrax
I can get your man wacked, for a couple Tan packs
Shoot off your Sedan lap, n****, I demand stacks
I ain’t playin’, black, bitch, I be sprayin’ MACs
And all type of guns with accessories
I’m like Cosby for the bills, I need mills like Stephanie
Pussy n***** can’t stand next to me
I’ve got dope and ecstasy
Keep ’em floatin’ like both of the levees breached
80s baby but my soul from the 70s
Worldwide game like I traveled the 7 seas
N***** ain’t OG, scary lil bitch, please
Tune hate pussy in the can, frisky
I got 10 up on my pinky ring and 20 on my bracelet
Now these n***** kissin’ ass, but they can’t say shit
I’m just here to separate the real from the fake shit
I told you, I was comin’ and I’m sorry for the wait
I gotta get this money, mane, it’s right here in my face
I got the Devil on my back, I don’t wanna be up in that place
My grandma tell me to be safe, I just keep runnin’ in these streets
I can’t stop fuckin’ with these hoes but I say I’m just doin’ me
Bitch, I’m a 9th Ward n****, Mason Street, D&G
That Florida right by the D, they need to free my n**** B
I ain’t the type of person to be runnin’ from no beef
Those fuckin’ guns are gonna be burstin’, somebody knocked off their feet
So watch your fuckin’ mouth before you end up on that floor and stop
Actin’ like you’re hard because you know you’ve been a ho
I told you out the gate I’m not the fake, I gotta say it
Please excuse, almost forgot I’m Raw Dizzy by the way
Money over bitches, bitch, I’m comin’ for the check
Vampire livin’, bitch, I’m comin’ for your neck
Raw! I’m sharp, my swagger like an X
I’ma motherfuckin’ monster, I rap like I’m possessed
Call me Mr. Still Smokin’, smoke it in a paper
The game is a bitch
Yes, I am a Blood but I be wylin’ with my skaters
We probably smokin’ flavors, bumpin’ Tyler the Creator
I’m a Eastside native, all my n***** Soo Woopin’
Man, they went crazy when they heard I had a song with Lil Tunechi
Bitch, get some ice and pour my Sprite and light my bong and my doobies
Fuck your producer, I’m the one that be producin’ my music
I’m a hippie surrounded by a lot of pot
Pot is in me, drop ya like an Otterbox
They sleepin’ on me like I’m rappin’ with a blanket
Kill a n**** have him thinkin’ that he plankin’
All-red plaid shirt, skinny ass jeans on
Them goons at your front door, choppers out, ding dong
Didn’t I change the game and put my motherfuckin’ team on?
Now let my chopper ring, “Blaka!” is my ringtone
Fuck you ho-ass n*****, I get money and get over hoes
We hold court with them heaters, “Pop!” case open/closed
Lookin’ for a bitch to hop up on my totem pole
And my blunt be stupid-fat, double-stuffed Oreos
And I get loaded till I motherfuckin’ overload
Been rappin’, flows still tight like aerobics clothes
Ask them bitches, I told them hoes
They back it up like Sonny drivin’, Bronx Tale, Calogero
Lighter in my pocket, light the sky rocket
Pull them hammers out and run them n***** like stockings
Got some n***** from my city, Thugga, Dizzy, Flow
Sorry 4 The Wait, comin’ soon, Carter IV, bitch!