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pouya – lil wayne 1999 lyrics

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[verse 1: pouya]
that’s my p-ssy on the block, she been on the clock
waitin’ for them boys to flock, boy i know you see me in the drop
swervin’ lanes, avoidin’ cops, you sellin’ rock, out the sock
but hoe i’m sellin’ out these bops, you p-ssy boy, you pillow talk
i been in a corner inside of my cadillac, hearin’ myself on the radio
i got a b-tch and these b-tches be trippin’
they really do not wanna let it go
all of this rap sh-t easy, all of these hoes gon’ feed me
my pockets lookin’ like fat nick and you rappers bulimic

[verse 2: fat nick]
skrrtin’ tesla, bih, movin’, whippin’ it
drinkin’ lean while you syrup, mixin’ it
30 on me, gon’ catch a hobby, that 40, 30, gon’ drop a body
molly bustin’, gon’ f-ck, no cuffin’
got big bands boy, it ain’t nothin’
can’t love a b-tch, get straight to puntin’
got big d-cks, no need for thumpin’
smokin’ dope, i got plenty, pistol next to my fendi
model b-tch, she gon’ f-ck me
i just [?] next xanny
turn the codeine, no remy
plug gon’ have it real steady
wylin’ out in public cause this thumper got to poppin’

[verse 3: shakewell]
hittin’ my henny straight, with a blunt to chase
pullin’ up on your b-tch, shankin’ the mans
then i f-ck the face
young demon schemin’ for the guap, bustin’ out your place
hittin’ that block, two rocks in my sock, pop pop
yeah b-tch i serve the base from state to state
pulled up on my savage, the work’s in the package
i ain’t pillow talkin’ with a f-ckin’ ratchet
all my pillow cases filled with all these packets
all these packin’ peanuts, ain’t no f-ckin’ matches
why these hoes callin’? i’m a f-ckin’ dragon
this ain’t tsa, i don’t need your baggage
just another day, strugglin’ for the cabbage
if you try and grab it, then your life is stashin’

[verse 4: pouya]
i’m gettin’ sick of these lames, tryna merge in my lane
44 keep wavin’ all in my face
watchin’ my back, peep out the window of the fiat
lil’ wayne 1999 cuz the block is hot
i pop the glock when i’m worried
she suck my d-ck in a hurry, then she get me a mcflurry
my life is fire, don’t need no fibre
sh-t on these rappers, pick out the real ones, pick out the actors
just turned 21, b-tch i’m a savage
you ain’t nothin’ but a fashion f-ggot
f-ck that, bust back, let a man have it
b-tch i play with the ratchet
date for the hatchet
bank account got yo’ b-tch dancin’, yuh

[verse 5: fat nick]
i got bands, you already know
downed a norco, i’m movin’ slow
crack your pint and remix it, hoe
don’t like a b-tch, i just love her throat
hit my phone if you wanna get plugged
pop shot, then i hop man, i don’t get shot up
cuff a real hip if you wanna get burnt off
[?] shawty [?] t’d up
that .44, it bustin’, she suckin’, and f-ckin’
i’m spendin’, and spendin’, this money, ain’t heavy
i just need me some more, these drugs inside of me, hoe
these thousand dollar sneakers
why you wifin’ up a heater?

[verse 6: shakewell]
g3722, who the f-ck are you?
if i met you when was poppin’, nah, my memory gone
the 4039, aye, sorry for that
just zooted and shaded, i ain’t ‘shamed to say it
i can’t feel my face and them bars but acti keep me activated
so i don’t remember, so tell me when we were in love
all i remember the drugs, ain’t need to prove it was hittin’
i’m proven, tradin’ qualitest to the percocet plug
why’s it you askin’, ain’t this cali weed enough?
why you keep droppin’ them pills in your cup?
hold up my homie, don’t think that you know me
this muddy was never enough
in love with the sippin’ but fienin’ for pills in my gut