That's All I Have (feat. Zipp & Tyga)

Lil Wayne

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    Ha! Peek-a-boo, bitch! Swag scare your kids
    My airplane clothes flyer than your bestest shit
    Gorillas in the mist, pro-black: Pump they fist
    I'm from the Planet of the Apes: King Kong clips
    Silence Lambs, bitch; run through your land trippin'
    Can't pretend when this is real as it gets, can ya?
    If shit hits the fan, I Ron Artest niggas
    This how I'm living: Getting tatted in some house slippers
    I like my bitches simple: Lay back, relax ya mental
    Shit, you know what I do, tell me what you tryna get into
    The man car's rented, the man car killing
    Gossipping? Fuck the car! Look at the man in it!
    Ha! Boys-to-man business, we don't hire bitches
    Just fire bitches: Young Money fire spitters
    Them red ants is with us and they ain't ate they dinner
    Begin the feast; feet lying, fatality finish
    I'm killin these records, they put me in Guinness
    I really don't give a fuck if you witness
    You hear it, listen, buy it, steal it
    I'm still gonna get my fucking percentage
    I cuss a lot cause bitch I'm serious young no beard
    Get soup, like gumbo with shrimp
    Flyer than Dumbo ears is, bitch

    Uhh, now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat
    But I weather the storm, I'm a lightnin' streak
    Uhh, Weezy F. Baby, I do it big: Weigh me
    Them crazy freaky bitches tryna to Cirque du Soleil me
    Got some new bitches, trail got em' laughin'
    The one that gave me head can suck the nail out a casket
    Shotgun on the kitchen table, bullet shells in the cabinet
    Fuckin' with me is like steppin' on the tail of a dragon
    Wet pussy is my cabin, more bitches than a pageant
    I keep a house full nigga, call me Bob Saget
    Spendin' time backwards, hotter than a cactus
    And we ain't in the buildin', we the fuckin' contractors
    YM, muthafucka, why hate it?
    Young Money down your throat, ya gotta stay hydrated
    Quarterback Weezy, young Tom Brady
    Open up ya mouth, and catch a bomb baby
    Good morning, dude, Eagle Street corner, Tune
    Long dough, no short bread, no Lorna Doone
    I'm warnin' you: We on the move
    Bunch of female dogs and garden tools
    That's bitches and hoes, hospital full, sick of my flow
    Hip-hop was washed up so I brought some change to finish my load
    I load millions and more millions
    Money to the ceilings? Nigga, NO CEILINGS!

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    Step up in this bitch, 5 o'clock in the morning
    The world is waking up, you can hear the pigeons yawning
    I'mma get that worm now, tell 'em it's my turn now
    Y'all niggas need a lesson on some ethic; you gon' learn now
    I do this for the love of it; saliva, cause I love to spit
    And I juke it; for my future records, y'all gon' love to spin
    Fucking with my brethren, 10 years strong
    And he put them dreads in: Silver John Long
    But he's more like platinum; hold up, here's a napkin
    Pick your jaw up off the floor and tuck your tongue right back in
    Tell me, where is Mack Maine? That's all I have

    Song details

    Composition: Lil Wayne, Awesome Jones, Shanell L Woodgett, and Radric Davis

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