LIL' WAYNE


Look At Me Lyrics

[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 p*ssy
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

[Hook]

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Songwriter(s): Eric Sadler, Bosco A. Kante, Terius Gray, Brent Argovitz, A. Kahan, Christopher Dorsey, V. Mason, Earl T. Stevens, Carlton Ridenhour, Rodney D. Oliver, Olaf Jeglitza, George Clinton Jr, Bryan Williams, Hank Shocklee, Wayde Battle, Jeffrey Darryl Page, Dwayne Carter, Joe Anthony Cooley, J.
Record Label(s): 2002 Cash Money Records Inc
Official lyrics by

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