Whip Game Proper Lyrics

(feat. Lil' Wayne)

[Chorus: Lil Wayne - chopped & screwed]
Whip game proper, whip game proper
You know my whip game proper, whip prop-proper
You know my whip game proper, whip game proper
You kn.. a package on the way you know my whip game proper
You know my whip game proper, whip-whip game proper
You know my whip game proper, whip game proper
Whip game proper, you know my whip game proper
With my package on the way you know whip game, whip proper

[Twista - over Chorus]
Uhh, Twista and Weezy F. Baby, ya dig
Whip game proper like behind the wheel, behind the stove (uhh)
It don't matter (uhh) check it out

Whip game proper, co-caine chopper
Don't offer me reefer unless you know the flame proper
You know I'm in somethin sick when you see the Twista pop off
f**ked up off juice and Vodka and high as a helicopter
In the grape jelly Jag or peanut butter Bentley
Or ruby Hummer cause a few bitches is comin with me
Or break down slowly I'm stallin off in the stick shift (whoo)
Mwah! Give my rims a kiss, they got big lips
Now tear the guts out, bricks'll get served
Like ostrich interior, because I'm sittin on the biggest birds
Vocalistic cataclysms, I spit the biggest words
f**k you and yo' bitch-ass crew, I spit the sickest verbs
Yo' life is secondary, I f**k my secretary
My life is legendary, keep a gun in every Chevy
My trunk knocker, watch how I beat the block up
A paper chopper cause on my tip, the flame pop up - cause my


[Lil Wayne]
Yessir... uhh, I'm up in it like dope dick
And I'm physically fine, but my flow's sick
Yosemity Sam, two holsters
Two pistols, can't be too cautious
Yes, human crack, Young Carter
I perform better in hot water
Yeah, and my whip game straight
On a bad day I could turn a two into a eight
And when I smile, it look like a bag of coke
I gets high, I'm twisted like a bag of ropes
And I come from the jungle
I'm like Peter, I ride for my animals; ya dig?
Haha, now get money, or get the f**k
So much ice, I need the stick with the puck
And if the work ain't big enough
I could whip it up, watch me whip it up - because my


Whip game proper, watch how I stir the pot up
Thuggin like I will pack up my five and go blaka-blaka
Do anything a nigga gots to do to protect my product
When you call the cops up I'll be gone before they search through my Prada
Because I don't want the drama, don't wanna holla at Your Honor
So under the seat I'ma carry the llama and then I peel off in my Impala
I'm a (what) Jeff Gordon slash chef, sorry I gots ta peel sharp
Behind the wheel or the stove I whip it real hard
To lick it real hard, give the shorties real jobs
Not from Georgia, I'm from Chicago but I got a (Field Mob)
They all be proper, at the top of Da Carter
Cuttin work at the table like a DJ go aw-err-aw-err
All of us poppin tags, all of us ridin Bentleys
All of us ridin bikes so you know we all poppin wheelies
I'm a C-note rapper, good, dope shopper
Clique gon' make dollars, spit, game proper - cause my


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Songwriter(s): Michael A. Moore, Dwayne Carter, Carl Terrell Mitchell
Publisher(s): Young Money Publishing Inc., Money Mack Music, Almo Music Corp., Warner-tamerlane Publishing Corp., 1 Street Heat Prod., Stayin' High Music
Record Label(s): 2007 Atlantic Recording Corporation for the United States and WEA International Inc for the world outside of the United States
Official lyrics by

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