Tweet
Year: 2007
Produced By: Street Runner
Album: The Leak
Label: Cash Money/Universal
Live Performance
Lyrics
[Intro]
I hate gossip
And I don’t walk around looking for it, you know
But yesterday it seemed to just wander around until it found me
You know like gossip found me
And why don’t you try proving it
How? You don’t know how to prove it?
Well what you just do is
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop
[Verse 1 – Lil Wayne]
Stop
Hating on a nigga
That is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga
And you can get tipped like you waitin’ on a nigga
Put a body bag and an apron on a nigga
I give my all behind the mic
But you can never see if you sit behind the light
And you don’t have to pick me to win the title fight
But I’mma wear that championship belt so tight
And if I’m wrong, there is no right
And if I’m wrong, there is no white
I’m tryna be polite
But you bitches in my hair, like the fucking po-lice
And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice
These other rappers bark, some of ‘em even bite
But I’m much more bright, I give the game sight
So before you dim the lights you just might, might, wanna
[Chorus]
Think it over, think it over, oooh
Think it over, think it over, baby, baby
[Verse 2 – Lil Wayne]
Get em!
Stop
Analyzin’, criticizin’
You should realize what I am and start epitomizin’
Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion
I’m confident like fuck ‘em all, pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick, so sick, it’s like my shit is dyin’
It rains a lot in my city, because my city’s cryin’
Because my city’s dyin’
Still I emerge from all of that I am a living pion-eer, near Zion
Fear God, not them
Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot
And soo woo, and
Then I leave blood in the booth, I leave a blood bath
Sorry there’s a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?
I’m twisted like the string on a shoe, no nigga fuck that
I’m twisted like the string on a boot, now where New Orleans at?
I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass
So in your possession, I, I, I must ask
[Hook]
Hey, haven’t I been good to you? Think it over
Tell me; haven’t I been sweet to you?
[Verse 3 – Lil Wayne]
Drag my name through the mud, I come out clean
Cast away stones, I won’t even blink
A gun is not a math problem, I won’t even think
Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink
Don’t believe in me, don’t believe me
I’ve graduated from hungry and made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it
But I’mma need cheese if I’m bakin’ a ziti
You niggas want beef? I want a steak and uh, we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be
Hard body nigga, just takin’ it easy
All about my paper, ’bout my paper like Eazy
Why do rappers, why to rappers, lie to fans
Lie to rappers, lie to rappers, lie like actors
Cut the motherfuckin’ cameras
Cut the check nigga fuck ya props
And make it out to Mr. Hip Hop
I’m not dead, I’m alive
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