[Intro: Lil Wayne]

Dope man

Dope man, coke man

Yeah

[Verse: Lil Wayne]

I play the Porsche, 918

I mean the Spyder, you do not know what I mean

I got a driver for my drop top limousine

Go ask your bitch, I bet she know 'bout Mr. G

Yeah, he like to talk

She like to talk

So when he drop her off

They have a heart to heart

Guess he got all the answers

And I got all the verses

My Benzo got no ceilings

But the windows came with curtains

So me and G swervin'

Me and G swerve

I keep the double-R, me and Steve Kerr

Popping these Percs like I'm on injury reserve

And when the pockets full of lint, we want that lint to be fur

Amen, Amen

No baking soda, my nigga, we play it raw

We put some holes in them niggas, we playin' golf

Want you to know it's me, nigga, my mask off

Cut out your tongue, put that bitch in a glass jar

Then drop it off to your kid's classroom

Dirt bags, we belong on a vacuum

A pad room, I fuck in my bathroom

Long hallways, my room is the last room

Long hard days, my schedule don't have room

You home all day, you stuck on your MacBook

I'm gone all day, I'm chasing that checkbook

I'm stoned all day, I'm stoned all day, I'm on D'ussé

And back in the day we was on Section 8

Now we in our own section, motherfucker, like "Ayy"

All you niggas know what time it is like Flav

Public Enemy Number One like Flav

Fifteen with a mouth full of golds like Flav

Fifteen with a house full of hoes like Hef

Gave G the day off 'cause the car park itself

Shots take off like a stealth

And they landing in your scalp

Letting human heads replace the Grammies on the shelf

Put a bitch head right below the belt 'til she belch

And she won't get a dollar; zero, zilch

Cup muddy-muddy, muddy-muddy-muddy

Tunechi pass the blunt, I'm gon' need time to study

They don't know who got the gun

But they know who got the money

We don't wanna know what's up

We wanna know who got the money

What these niggas wanna do?

What these bitches want from me?

Bitches claiming I'm a dog

But these bitches want puppies

These bitches bring luggage

My bitches bring others

My bitches bring rubbers

Your bitches burn rubbers

Your bitches burn supper

I'm still major and I made you niggas

You getting bodied by a skater, nigga

I'm not the type of nigga that be Skypin' bitches

Shout out to all my bitches one nightin' niggas

Woah, make sure you hit 'em with the Slut Walk

Yeah, then text that man to fuck off

And I pour up another one, another one

The cream soda tasting like bubble gum

Woah, straight swerving on these niggas

From Collins, to Highland, to Bourbon on these niggas

Them other niggas just wasn't deserving of me, niggas

So I'm swerving on them niggas

No more Family Matters, no more Urkel on them niggas

I'm feeling like a born again virgin on them niggas

I'm running to the bank quick as Herchel on them niggas

What's in your wallet?

I done went commercial on them niggas

On purpose on them niggas

All black hoodie, all black gat to match

Yeah, put it to your hat, and Blat!

When we see you, boy, them shots be coming back to back

Long hair, don't care, nigga; Cactus Jack

No Ceilings