Cannon (Amg Remix) (Explicit)

Cannon (Amg Remix) - Lil Wayne (李尔·韦恩)/DJ Drama/Freeway
Howdy do motherf**kas it's Weezy Baby
Niggaz bitchin' and I gotta tote the
Listen close I got duct tape and rope
I leave you missing like the f**king O'bannons
One hand on my money one hand on my buddy
That's the AK-47 make his neighborhood love me
Bullets like birds
You can hear them b**ches humming
Don't make that bird sh*t he got a weak stomach
Niggaz know I'm sick
I don't spit I vomit got it
One egg short of the omelet
Simon says shoot a ni**a in his thigh and leg
And tell him ketchup like mayonnaise
Um I'm the sickest ni**a doing it bet that baby
These other niggas d**e I'm wet crack baby
Yes get back get back boy this a set back
Clumsy a** niggas slip and fall in to a death trap
Them boys p**sy born without a backbone
And if you strapped we can trade
Like the Dow Jones
Wet 'em up I hope he got his towel on
I aim at the moon and get my howl on
Some niggaz cry wolf I'm on that dry kush
And when it comes to that paper
I stack books
You heard what I said
I can put you on your feet or
Put some money on your head
Life ain't cheap
You better off dead if you can't pay the fee
Shout out my ni**a Free
See every motherf**ka at the door
Don't get a key
Outside lookin' in so tell me what you see
It's about money it's bigger than me
I tell my homies don't kill him
Bring the ni**a to me
Yeah don't miss
You f**king with the hitman
Kidnap a ni**a
Make him feel like a kid again
Straight up
I ain't got no conversation for you
Ni**a talk to the
Yeah have a few words with the
Yeah tell it to my motherf**king
Yeah straight up
I ain't got no conversation for you
Ni**a talk to the
Yeah have a few words with the
Ni**a tell it to my motherf**king
From Philly to where I'm landing I'm a
And I'm on that Philly fighting sh*t
And I come fully equipped
You trolley get bodied
Keep nina and shotty in the whip
If a ni**a try to stick me
I'm a blame him
Sing along now di-di-dadi I'm Free
Got the butters got the green
He got the tan
Got the whole enchilada
Owe me dough I'm inside of your house
Tie up your brother
Make the prick call up your mother
She might know where to find you
I am on top of my job
The heavyweight champ of the flowas
Flow like the ocean open water your drowning
I will four pound him and sink him
Heat him then leave him stinking
Sharks surround him and eat him
Nice to know him
I will roll over your squad like
I'm 'One Punch' Carr
You chumps you best call General Motors
I will take control of your soldiers
You won't miss 'em till
I toss 'em in the wok like chicken
General toast 'em uh oh
I make it hard for rap niggaz I'm peer pressure
Matter fact I'm motivation to rap better
I showed niggaz how to act how to dress better
I stay fresh more fitted caps than back catchers
I'm the crack the smack the gun the rule
The gat the strap the gun the tool
The motherf**king
Other words I'm the real for real
We can go check for check or bill for bill
We can go chick for chick skill for skill
The deal is sealed niggaz ain't real as Will
'Cause I'm a
And I handle well pedal like Cannondale
And I got the 50-cal mag it's a hand held
I'm telling you niggaz
I pop put a shell in you niggaz
My nice watch'll Helen Keller you niggaz
I got whores in the Canon camcorder bendin' over
Blowing 'ghan by the quarter
W**d odor in the Rover ni**a
Detriot Red gettin' change like them white folks
Dump it out the window of the Range
With the rifle
Pain like a b**ch like the first day of a cycle
You better scurry when I pull the
Tracks burn the streets like a truck do the gas
I love head and caressing a voluptuous a**
I ask you baby mama is she up to the task
She like damn Red it's bigger than
My attire makes the ladies
Say your man is too fly
Imported oils from Iran and Dubois
Get caught slipping with your mans and you die
Where I'm from niggaz be quick to squeeze the
Detroit Red always got some sh*t for your ear
Show me love but keep it moving man
'Cause you if you get near
I'll say 'Get off my dick"
And tell ya b**ch to 'Come here'
'Cause you sweating me and my DJ Don
Leg's spread far out you know how I'm standing
Yeah I'm posted with the big homie
I got niggaz who don't like rap lovin' our sh*t
We got niggaz who was stuck on
Pac bumpin' our sh*t
These niggaz can't see me
Like I ain't been around lately
A good batter when they at the mound
It's gravy
Niggaz salty I'm pepper no Spinderella
Just a cigarillo filled with Tropicana
Yeah Vic found that lick now
We smoking no more regular
Keep you mid-grade
I don't think you know no better
They love 'In Da Trunk'
Now they wanna hear more sh*t
I play it modest like
"Ni**a thats some of our old sh*t"
Got niggaz I ain't never met
Wanting to fight me
Got hoes that's in love asking
"Why you don't like me "
B**ch I'm married to the game
And I love my wifey
Steppin' over competition man
I love these Nikes
Yeah I'm hot they fannin'
Niggaz try to copy my style like the
Don't try to compare I'm in a league of my own
If I ain't listed at the top ni**a the stats is wrong
All the data is off you info ain't valid
Artist of the century
The competition ain't balanced
True like Master P and his two brothers
Don't call it i****t but
Juice the motherf**ker like ch'yea