Lil Wayne - Let's Go lyrics

It's gravy nigga. Believe it.

You hot? Fuck it. Hot as a firecracker.

(It's gravy too.) I got a mac in this bag.

(click clock) What you got? Glock. (Look)

Nigga I'ma tell ya straight off the bat

I got a mac in this bag with 20 grams of crack

And I'ma sit in the back seat of yo' 'Lac

Just in case I gotta snap, a firette to the chest

If I don't know shit, I know cars and broads

I done ordered plenty hits and watched heads come off

And I done saw my nigga get life behind them bars

To them dog hoes, nigga, we scream "fuck 'em all!"

I hustle hard in these city streets

I got my block on fire with my HB's

Spinnin' Benz in these drop tops double r

Cook a brick, flip 'em up, now I got 'em hard

And you can find me

Right up in them hallways, holdin' and totin'

Got the whole motherfuckin block loaded and smokin'

Nigga know one thang: its some uptown shit

If a nigga get it fucked, then we killin' a bitch

Nigga I'ma tell ya this, straight off the bat

I got a mac in this bag, with 20 grams of crack

Well let's go nigga, see we can slide nigga

Cuz if you hot, then I'm hot, let's ride nigga

Look, I'ma tell you this, straight off the top

I got a blunt, and a glock, and a bag of rocks

Let's go nigga, let's slide nigga

If you hot, then I'm hot, let's ride nigga

Better pay attention now so you don't forget later

I run the damn block, I oversee all of the paper

Don't make me take ya, play ya

I cock the glock and spray ya

Call it a caper, won't be no as-salama-laka

And J, he got the gauges, they cocked and ready

Make me run up in ya places and pop ya daddy

Got them bricks rocked and heavy, let it be known

I cook it hard and cut 'em in zones and the money be gone

Then I hit a blunt to the dome, and ride when night falls

Supply the white raw, if there's a problem, knock ya wife off

Lock the spot down

Respect it young nigga, I'm creepin' over

Now cut it with just a little bakin' soda, breakin' boulders

I take it out my holster and bakin' soldiers whenever

Nigga it's whatever, tell ya ma to call the reverend

You see me on the block with crack, gats, and weed

Rats, plats, and ki's, that's practically me

See I'm a hustler, cut-throat, put rhymes in mom's muffler

You can't even count how many times the 9's bust at ya

Some of the, niggas that you run with are, suckas bruh

None of ya, won't leave, without some bullets up in ya

Niggas can't hold me down, wodie wild

Cuz all that they can hear is loud screamin' and explosive sounds

They show me how to cook that brown and rock that white

No school, put that book back down, pick up that knife

See that's the real reason I hate to be on tour

I'd rather be back on the block with a bird of that pure

Niggas got it all wrong, thinkin' I'm all song

But yall gon' twist it and end up all gone

Dog-gone cocksuckers, you not thuggers

I pop dozens of glocks, cousins, in my struggle

So stop frontin', it ain't gon' get ya everywhere

I'ma start bustin', and bullets hit ya everywhere