Lil Wayne - D'USSE (Version Française) lyrics

by

Drake


[Produced by DJ Nasty & Lee Majors]

[Intro]
This motherf*ckin’ D’usse got me sweatin’ and sh*t…
Word to God
Hov, f*ck with ya boy
C5

[Verse 1]
Okay n*gga, I got 'em, point 'em out and I got 'em
Let 'em get a lil buzz, then we robbin' for pollen
We ain't killin' no minors, you n*ggas still in the minors
And your b*tch, we gonna blind her, can't pick us out of the lineup
I swear lord knows I'ma murk one of these n*ggas
Shoot you in your earth, and get earthworms on me, n*gga
I been did my time, I'm getting better with time
But real n*ggas don't whine, we'll burn down your vineyard
I been ballin' since cornrows, still duckin' the narcos
My little n*ggas in war mode, you spark it up, we charcoal
Got a bad b*tch with long hair that have bad days when the mall closed
I'm a big dog, big doghouse, make ashtrays out of dog bowls, yeah
Blessins on top of sins, restin' with topless twins
Picture me broke but forgot to take the top off the lens
In the restaurant, I’m with Slim, wrestlin' with lobster limbs
Talkin' about some M's, it's soundin' like gospel hymns
Yes, lord

[Interlude]
We on that D'usse, me and my n*gga Euro
Tina turn up in this b*tch
We got Lauren in this b*tch
Serena Pink in this b*tch, better known as Pinky
Steph in this b*tch
Yah dig?
What’s up Brandon!?
Lego!

[Verse 2]
Hollygrove n*gga, rest in peace, Lil Kevin
Rest in peace, Lil Beezy, rest in peace, Big Sausage
The world is mine, I am selfish
I am a shark, f*ck them shellfish
Everybody in the building, well I left that b*tch like Elvis
n*gga, please
Pops treated mom like Billie Jean
Like hot sauce, I put it on everything
I'ma give that f*ckin' woman everything, everything
Here we go, b*tch I'm cool, Coolio
She say "Tune, do me slow"
How many fish did Hootie blow?
I don't know, f*ck who knows?
I got a redbone with two golds
And she snort too much of that Michael Jackson
That b*tch gon' need a new nose
I ain't got time for you hoes
sh*t I only have two goals
And that is "Get Money, Get Money"
Now I'm ridin' 'round the city with the top off the Maybach
Lookin for a motherf*ckin' spot we can skate at
Elvis left the building and I take these hoes to Graceland
And I got more bounce, to the 28 grams
I ain't stuntin' these n*ggas
Eyes look Chinese, Wayne-chung to these n*ggas
Wayne-chung b*tch!
More than one b*tch
This for my n*ggas, we shall overcome, b*tch
From New Orleans, n*ggas dyin' over dumb sh*t
You know we give the pastor hell, make the nun strip
Yeah I might have them bricks, call me Brick Cannon
Nina on my lap, what you want from Santa?
I might get money, f*ck b*tches
Kill n*ggas and smoke weed
I'm married to this real sh*t
And I'm a wife beater, no sleeves
Do it for my hood
That 44 ain't no good
You better bring that chopper
Cause we gon' have them choppers
Yeah I do it for my hood
That 45 ain't no good
You better bring the chopper
Cause we gon' have them choppers, n*gga
We gon' have them choppers
We gon' have them choppers
You better bring the chopper
Cause we gon' have them choppers, yeah
We gon' have them choppers
We gon' have them choppers
You better bring the chopper
Cause we gon' have them choppers, n*gga
Mula!

[Outro]
My n*gga Hood in this b*tch
Still on that D'usse
Shout out my n*gga Lil Twist, my lil brother
He just passed out in the club the other night off that D'usse
Threw up on the owner
Owner talkin' about he wanted his money back
He wanted half of the money back
Twist took all the money and left
That's some Young Money sh*t
Soo Woo to the

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