ฟังเพลงGossip (Album Version|Edited)

Gossip (Album Version Edited) - Lil Wayne

I hate gossip

and I don't walk around lookin' for it, you know?

But yesterday it seemed to just

wander on till it found me

You know like, gossip found me,

then why don't you try provin' it

How? You don't know how to prove it?

Well, what would you just do is

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

Stop, hatin' on a nigga that is a weak emotion,

the lady of a nigga

And you can get tipped like ya waitin' on a nigga

Put a body bag and an apron on the nigga

I give my all behind the mic

But you could never see, if you sit behind the light

You don't have to pick me to win the title fight

But I'm gone wear that championship belt so tight

And if I'm wrong, there is no right

And if I'm wrong, there is no white

I'm tryna to be polite

But you bitches in my hair like to fuckin' pull lice

And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice

These other rappers bark, some of 'em even bite

But I'm much more bright, I give the game sight

So before you dim the light you just might, might wanna

Think it over

(Think it over)

Ooh, think it over

(Think it over baby, baby)

Get 'em

Stop, analyzin' criticizin'

You should realize what I am and start epitomizin'

Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion

I'm confident like

fuck 'em all pull out my dick and ride it

My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dyin'

It rains a lot in my city, because my city's cryin'

Because my city's dyin' still I emerge from all of that

I am a livin' pion-eer, near Zion

Fear God, not them

Steer my Robin Coupe through

the streets of the boot and soowoop

And, then I leave blood in a boot, I leave a blood bath

Sorry there's a tub in the boot,

now where the drugs at?

I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe,

no nigga bug that

I'm twisted like the strings on a boot

Now at New Orleans at

I feel your pop stole me like a bus pass

So in your possession, ah ah, I must ask

Hey, haven't I been good to you?

Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?

Drag my name through the mud

I come out clean cast away stones

I won't even blink

A gun is not a math problem

I won't even think

Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink

Don't believe in me, don't believe me

I've graduated from hungry

And made it to greedy

My flow is like pasta

Take it and eat it

But I'm gone need g's

If I'm bakin' the zeedy

You niggas want beef?

I want a steak and uh, we be

Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where we be

Hard body nigga, just takin' it easy

All about my paper, 'bout my paper like Eazy

Why do rappers? Why do rappers?

Lie to fans, lie to rappers, lot of rappers

Lie like actin', cut the mothafuckin' cameras

Cut the check nigga fuck your props

And make it out to Mr.Hip Hop

I'm not dead I'm alive