shooter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Weezy Baby, y'all
Don't get shot
Rapid fire, what you know bout it?
I brought my homie along for the ride
He strapped, he getting ready to come out the back room
Rob!
I heard some shouts, like, "Down on the floor!" (bow!)
Then—even louder—"We got shooters (yeah), shooters! (yeah)"
I turn around, I was staring at chrome (hello!)
Shotgun watches door, got security good (check!)
Jumped right over counter, pointed gun at, wink
He tell her, "I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter" (let's go!)
My hands up (yeah!), my hands up (yeah!)
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "Shooter!"
My hands up (yeah!), my hands up (yeah!)
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "Shooter!" (get 'em, yeah!)
So many doubt cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang! Die, bitch-nigga, die! I hope you bleed a lake
I'mma play x-ray, helping y'all see the fake
I'm just trying to be the Great, trying to get a piece of cake
Take it off of your plate, eat it right in your face
They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow!
All these bitches and, all these bitches!
But ain't no lovers around
They thinking about shooting! Them shooters
Got the guns, girls. Ladies, them gunners that
Shoot shoot shoot shoot! Shooters!
My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "shooter!"
My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "shooter!"
And to the radio stations, I'm tired of being patient
Stop being rapper racists, region-haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick-takers
It's outrageous! You don't know how sick you make us
I want to throw it up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern, face it
If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics
Lady walks into a shotgun surprise
Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
He said: "bitch is gonna get it, everybody gon' regret it
I'm your - shooter!"
My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "shooter!"
Socks soaking wet, I been running y'all, I reload
Every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward
You better know me, Lil Wayne, just call me Lord, hard
Take pain like Tylenols, raw, way past par
Far, I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose, or draw
And then they ask who, when, where, how, and
My reply was simply, "Pow!" C'mon!
Mama, I tink dat, ay!
Me tink dey want me to surrender!
No! No, I'm sayin'
Mama, I tink dey, ay!
Me tink dey want me to surrender!
No, no, me won't surrender
No, no, I promise no surrender
I got my burner
And I'm the shooter