New Orleans Maniac lyrics

by

Gudda Gudda


[Intro: Lil Wayne & Sample]
This is the archetypal rock sound
Ok this really ain't no rock sh*t
But um, leggo!

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Hollygrove monster, New Orleans maniac
Shoot a n*gga up until his whole body ain't attached
Hi, my name is best rapper alive
And your mouth is the best crapper alive
'Cause you talk sh*t, I get hit and walk it off
Like f*ck that, then I just spit like barking dogs
Call it "bust-back," attitude like "f*ck em all"
And I'm greasy, and your boyfriend is a butterball
What's geezy? I mean what's good? b*tch, is you blind?
Check my watch, bet it be money all the time
Sunny on the side where I stay at
Where M.I.A. at? I get pus*y every time I say that
Haha! In the game room, I don't play that
b*tch n*gga get laid down where he lay at
AK at your front door, Young Zoe
You can ask Brisco, shoot 'til my wrist sore
Coupe with a b*tch low, who with the sick pour
I'm tired of the south, so in your mouth is where the di*k go
Yeahhh! They like it when I say yeah, huh?
And your boyfriend's a tampon
And I don't own land, baby, I own a landmine
So step on my land and catch a bomb like Anquan
Weezy F and the 'F' is for franchise
You looking at me is like you're looking through ant eyes
Hahaha! Young Money can't die
b*tch, we like Hanc*ck
Yeah, I'm a Martian; what you saying, Spock?
I turn your beef into a hamhock
Then I put it in a pan pot, shoot 'til my hand hot
I can't hear you saying stop, I hear nina saying "pop"
I hear choppers saying "chop"
I hear n*ggas screaming and sh*t, like I say "holla at ya boy, b*tch"
But holla at ya boy b*tch
I'm the boy b*tch, not ya boy b*tch, 'cause ya boy a b*tch
Hahahaha! Young Moola Crazy!
[Verse 2: Gudda Gudda]
Eastside Loco, you're sweet like cocoa
And you can get your ass beat fast like go-go
Mask on my face, low pro that a no show
Shoot a rapper when his album drop give 'em promo
You clown like bozo, they ask him bout the group sh*t
It's time to get the loot, b*tch; I had to go solo
Your b*tch all on me, you better watch your ho, though
She wanna come kick it like a dojo, uh-oh
Slick n*gga, f*ck 'em, then I drop 'em like a low-low
b*tch want money; like Millz: "No, no-no"
n*gga, if you hating, suck a di*k; no homo
Boy I keep it gutter like bo-bos
Yeah I'm doing what I do, so n*gga, just do you
And my gun nicknamed menage; she do two
n*gga, welcome to the Young Money Ape Zoo Crew
We starving and you could get ate like zoo-zoos
n*ggas boo-hoo, cry; motherf*cker, I'm heartless
I'll break bones and cartilage
You are just a mark muthaf*cker; I'm a marksman
And I'm all about the green like Boston
Pardon me, n*gga, I'm talking reckless
You walk into a gun fight, knife, no vest, b*tch you crazy
Just like the ice you wearing, you fugazi
Put 'em in the dirt; make 'em push a few daisies
80's baby, soon-to-be rich n*gga
King Kong beating on my chest, on you b*tch n*ggas
Paper I'm after, so I'm on your ass now
Young Money: motherf*cking cash cow
GUDDA!
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