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[Hook] Bright thing on my hand saying (Look at me) I got your girl doing a handstand (Look at me) Cop them 28-inch Birdman's (Check out me) Y'all dues money to ya Bright thing on my hand saying (Look at me) I got your girl doing a handstand (Look at me) Cop them 28-inch Birdman's (Check out me) Big thighs with brown-eyes
[Verse 1] It's Lil Weezy for real Only Cash Money Hot Boy that stood still I got a good deal I'm from a trill hood I smoke real good Slide on them skinnies in the bike with an ill hood Pipes, rally stripes and fog lights T-shirt white, three stripes with all ice What that boy name Birdman junior, huh Fool was smile but five is so wild I can smoke a green mile Got a chrome need a Rolls shined up for you baby Bling-blow, I rock a throwback Jordan 23 Rolling on hot 23's Tote a big glock 23 You're looking at the seventeen ward of New Orleans My block living me I want you to look hard at some easy money Stop playing this is Weezy company Uh-huh
[Hook]
[Verse 2] I'm the son of Cash Money The fodd of the squad And Baby bout to buy me a house in the sky Cuz I'm so fly When my feet touch the ground sometimes I gotta ask myself why Coupe kinda wide but I move sorta quick Looking for my roof where it went Mink on the floor big shoes on the bed Windows are the tint more wood than a bench Working in the hood more green than the Grinch Please don't play cuz I'm connected like Sprint Ladies on the tray popping up the back-end Peppermint leather with a feather in my brim It's Lil Weezy Sucking on my wrist real breezy And this is what I say when you see me Look, and leave your broad at home she get took Cuz I'm a player hold the game by the book
[Hook]
[Verse 3] Some call me Weezy But hoes holla look at Lil Wayne In that booger-green lay like should've been Mace Sweet, do speak when I should've put trays Forget it I'ma slam it on bubba-bubba-blaze So move over what you say shortie We could do rent pussy Normally I wouldn't but beating through the Texas And beating went to the A Eat with desert fey But yeah I'm on my way Cuz I know he got that hay Hey little mami You a ghetto fire tin You come to my post on the island Come on that chronic He-he empty vodka bottles I be high he be drunk that my roll model I rolls by you with my seat reclining When I stop rims don't keep spinning they keep shining Money don't stop keep spinning and keep grinding Cash Money what you hollering, huh
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