Gumbo (feat. Gudda Gudda)

Yo Pierre, you wanna come out here?

Lil Wayne: We been outchea

[Lil Wayne]

Never 'bout a bitch it's 'bout a check my nigga

Never 'bout the bitch about the check my nigga

That's my nigga!

Make me do construction in your section nigga

Rari' doin' donuts that's my breakfast nigga

Okay you got soldiers, I got veterans nigga

And I got that white, like One Direction nigga

Kesha nigga, Only God can judge you

I'm a sentence you the death my nigga (yeah)

And you are not a topic in my section nigga

Math teacher taught me how to count my fucking blessings nigga

Got married to the fucking mob when I met it nigga

Everybody cried at my motherfucking wedding nigga

Everybody 5 in my motherfucking section nigga

Hoodybaby six, so numbers lying in my sections nigga

Still got them bloods, like a vessel nigga, that's right nigga

Tell a blind nigga, watch your step my nigga

Left, right nigga, (whoa)

I let my niggas glow, My niggas don't speak

BAP! BAP! BAP! Quote, un-quote

Never had cold feet

Stepping out, moving snow

Cut the heads off the sheep, and send them all around the GOAT

O-M-W, B-M-W, N-E-W

I got that R-A-W, for the L-O-W

That's non-refundable, that's L-A-W

And we hate deductibles, like police hate untouchables

They see me in the car, then they F-O-L-L-O-W

I drive S-L-O-W, with that B-L-O-W

I like it very colorful

When it come to my jungle juice

I'm outchea yelling "Fuck a truce!"

If he gon' act like mother goose (whoa)

It's never bout' the kids, about the pets my nigga (no)

It's right between the ears, above the neck my nigga (whoa)

It's very quiet, when you hear the weapons nigga (shh!)

They verify you by your dental records nigga (Six Shit)

[Gudda Gudda]

Fuck the city up and I got the glizzy tucked

Dick hanging from the mouth, look like a billy club

Flyest niggas from the city, bitch, that's really us

You pussies talking, boo boo boo, now you really fucked

Ridin' in the range with Maine, we switch lanes

With my bottom bitch, walked the beach in Biscayne

Real P shit, that's that M.O.B. shit

Look at me now, these pussies said I wasn't gon' be shit

Yeah, got a homie named Trel from Hoover, he might shoot you

Red rag hangin' out my right pocket, but I'll blues you

When them roosters touch down, we make them bitches cock-a-doodle

Take a shot at me over a beat, bitch, I'ma shoot you

Got a bitch named Vicky, she pretty, she keep me stiffy

Glock .40 in her purse, don't tempt me, her finger itchy

She ride so I keep her with me

She shy but not with that glizzy

She high from hittin' the blizzy

Eyes red like trippy

Hoody rollin' up, that boy smoke like a hippie

Fill my double cup up with mud, that's right, I'm sipping

Yeah, retarded with it, I just might be the hardest with it

And you a rat, you be politckin' with the Sarge, Lieutenant

Fuck all you bitches

Gudda