Man of the Year lyrics

by

Phonte


[Verse 1: Drake]
Damn, I done walked in here
Looking like the motherf*cking man of the year
Think I had the motherf*cking plan of the year
Which was simply to make groupie fans of my peers
And I get my girl whatever she desire
And my n*ggas get whatever they require
These rappers old, I’m the reason they expire
Plus I got a city that I Carey like Mariah
Damn, that punch line was predictable
I still got you sh*tting bricks, homie quit the bull
And we don’t need new members, to me the clique is full
And I be getting the same women that Tip can pull
Believe or not, I receive a lot
So I be wearing the same Gucci that Jeezy got
And I be buying the Louis that Kanyeezy cop
And I be ripping the same records that Weezy rock
This sh*t is easy pop
That’s why I’m ready man
I’d never copy Nor-bit like Eddie man
Did you get it? Eddie Murphy was in Norbit
Or was it way over your head, did you forfeit?
Yeah, I take a woman shopping in a store quick
Her ass big, she just trying to make a four fit
Yeah, they need to issue out a recall
I’m going up and they heading into a freefall
The fundamentals are needed, you playing streetball
And I was out at BET, but I didn’t see ya’ll
These Skee-Lo rappers wishing they could be tall
Letting all their fake friends use them like a free stall
[Chorus: Lil Wayne]
Damn, I done walked in here
Looking like the motherf*cking man of the year
My shades so dark and my ice so bright
My buddy in my pants wanna fight your wife
Like, round one, round two, round three
I told you not to ever bring a b*tch ’round me
Cause, ain’t no n*gga like a Young Money n*gga
No, ain’t no n*gga like me
Ya dig

[Verse 2: Drake]
I said I know you see me chilling super low key
If I’m with the right n*ggas, you can scoop an O.Z
All the hustlers and the bouncers and the groupies know me
Fresh denim, fresh shades in a coupe with no keys
It start up when I touch the door
And I encourage ladies to touch the floor
As soon as we finish cutting, we can cut some more
Then after you get high
Make em, get em, girl you finna get low
Lights dimmed down
Got a lota dough plus a hit sound
What you mean you ain’t heard? I come highly recommended
Everybody my friend even if they been offended
They ain’t really got a choice, it’s an obvious decision
You tryna make a come up in my city, it’s a given
Plus a n*gga famous, plus I got a vision
Not to mention having bars like a motherf*cking prison
They taking too long, their records on hold
They threatened by my presence cause I make them feel old
Guaranteed if they drop, they bragging bout what they sold
Just remember where I live at, fifty thousand's going gold
Holla at me when you see me, make yourself known
Instead of hatin’ on my music in the comfort of your home
n*gga, be a man, you acting like a b*tch
I ain’t acting like I’m rude
I’m just acting like I’m rich, rich
Riding with Weezy f*cking Baby
Are you the type of girl that me and Weezy f*cking, baby?
Cause I don’t waste time, can’t you see a n*gga lazy
And I might need some help
But, you know, Weezy’s f*cking crazy
[Chorus: Lil Wayne]
Damn, I done walked in here
Looking like the motherf*cking man of the year
My shades so dark and my ice so bright
My buddy in my pants wanna fight your wife
Like, round one, round two, round three
I told you not to ever bring a b*tch ’round me
Cause, ain’t no n*gga like a Young Money n*gga
No, ain’t no n*gga like me
Ya dig

[Spoken Word: Lil Wayne]
Y-M, b*tch, everyday
Two times on Sunday
Spitta!
Check your blinkers, baby
Check your blinkers, baby
Cause, to me, look like you’ve been turning right all day, yeah
Right my way, I got a boulevard, baby
That’s right, Cash Avenue
Wall Street gangsta
Carter, y'all
Why would I lie, yeah
I ain’t rich, b*tch, I’m wealthy
Young, I talk sh*t til I die
Come kill me, n*gga
f*ck you, no homo
She like it, yeah
Boy, these motherf*cking glasses I got on right now
Are so motherf*cking cold
[Chorus: Lil Wayne]
Damn, I done walked in here
Looking like the motherf*cking man of the year
My shades so dark and my ice so bright
My buddy in my pants wanna fight your wife
Like, round one, round two, round three
I told you not to ever bring a b*tch ’round me
Cause, ain’t no n*gga like a Young Money n*gga
No, ain’t no n*gga like me
Ya dig
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