Shoes (Explicit)

Song: Shoes

Artist: Lil Wayne

Lyrics: Lil Wayne

Composed: Mouse On Tha Track

OK, No Ceilings, motherfucker, good mornin'

Dick in your mouth while you're yawnin', I'm goin' in

Gudda, why they started me? Marley, why they started me?

I’ll bring it to your front door like you ordered me

Back in this bitch, but a lot more rich

On my Papa Bear shit, need hot porridge

Got a lot more shit than you can ever fathom

A big-head nigga couldn’t even imagine

The shit I do, most doers never done

I'mma fuck this beat, ya bitch, ooh, ya better cum

Bet I run this shit, I don't run from shit

I'll still beat your ass like a fucking drumstick

Weezy Fucking Baby, baby, make the ladies come quick

The money can’t fit in my pockets but I'll bet that gun fit

And I’m so unfit 'cause all I eat is rappers

And these rappers ain't shit, I like my fast food faster

Syrup got me slow like a turtle 'round this ho

And I'm flyer than the highest-flying bird around this ho

What's the word around this ho? You'll get served around this ho

Yeah, you'll get served like a fucking hors d'œuvre around this ho

I don’t splurge around no ho, no I don’t shine in front of no bitch

'Cause after she get off my dick I be like "Find the front do' bitch"

I don't know why in the fuck your bitch keep coming by

I done fucked your bitch a hundred times

What the fuck your bitch got on her mind? My fucking dick

I call her dickhead, spicy like a Big Red

Strike you like a Bic head, your flow sick? My shit dead

Sillier than V.I.C. said, Soulja Boy and Arab

You should see my 11 year old daughter do they dance

I call it the Nae-Nae dance, proud to be Nae-Nae’s dad

Gun on the waistline, leave you in the wasteland

We are not the same, I am a Martian, this is Space Jam

No Ceilings, R.I.P., Amen

Motherfucking caveman, beating on my chest

Young Money, Cash Money, and I'm eating all the rest

Nigga, no offense, sorry if you're offended

Riding high like I'm on 54 inches

Man, I'd rather chill with 54 bitches

Ch-chill like, ch-chill like an Eskimo, let's get mo', let's get mo' bitches

And I be like "Let's get mo' bitches"

Mr. Officer, stop arresting your bitches

Stop lettin' the messy hoes mess with your business

Mickey Mouse cheese, hip-hop Walt Disney

Sheesh, gosh, Oshkosh B’gosh

Smokin' on that Bob Marley, listenin' to Pete Tosh

I-I-I do me, no, I do three at a T-I-M-E

Why when we say we Young Mula

The bitches leave y'all and relay run to us

And payday comes sooner than later 'round here

And you see my sharks like they got some bait around here

Hey, you better stop the hate around there

Before Tommy, Mac, and Nina debate around there

Yeah, you see it in my face, I don’t care

Whole court hearing, trial, and the case around there

I'm the best thing yet, I know I got that thing wet

Everybody wanna be fly but don’t know where their wings at

Huh, had to pause for a minute

Now I'm right back in it, like the drawers of the women

On a scale of one to ten-n my girl be a twenty

My girls so bad make a nigga think he's sinnin'

My goons so gritty, my goons is so with me

Haters gotta go on iTunes to go get me

Gators, matadors, baboons, and those grizzlies

All come out me when I'm on the micropho-N-E

Mic check, two, three; I am different like blue pee

And my girls be half naked like Betty Boop be

Like a hoopty, man, the boy been ridin'

And I ain't gassed up, 'cause I'm more like a hybrid

You think I'm stuntin', but no, I'm just survivin'

And I’ve been here, but my soul is just arrivin'

Look up in the air, it's a crow, it's a robin

No Ceilings, full dose, I'm prescribin'

Medication free, and for meditation we

Smoke some better tastin' weed that you’ll ever taste or see

S-H-A-R-P, as a tack, hotter than

Riding through the desert on a camel back, I done been

Riding through wherever with the hammer strapped, I ain't lying

I can do whatever if I'm planning that

So I got my guns, let's dance, like FannyPack

And we cook the hard, cut the soft and bring the whammies back

Mafio, bitch, where your motherfucking family at?

Call my nigga Gudda if you trying to get your mammy back

All up in another nigga's woman, I be ramming that

Seeing through these see-through niggas like they're laminate

Hip-hop so contaminate, I swear, just examine it

And I'm such a philanthropist, the God to these Evangelists

I dress so Los Angeles, but I love Miami though

I act so New Orleans, yes, I go Pistachios

That means I go nuts on any beat they throw at me

And the bitches is so at me, and you know what they throw at me

Ha, No Ceilings