Earthquake
Lyrics
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, speak to 'em Jazze)
I (yeah, fly guy)
I'm way more fly than you (that's right)
I'll take your dime from you (that's right)
Now she wanna spend (what?)
All night with me (She wanna wake up with Weezy F. Baby)
Let me be the one that you throw it to (throw it back, ma)
(Throw it back, throw it back, throw it back, ma, yeah)
Baby, I'd like to spend the rest of my night with you (yeah)
(So how 'bout you huh?, yeah, yeah)
Baby (so how 'bout you?)
I'll take your bitch, give her back, take your bitch again
That's because you throw a 5, I pitch a 10
Now she wanna get inside of me 66
She see my wrist blue and yellow like Michigan
She say she love her man, she misses him
But nobody do it better than her distant dick, me
I'm a long distance pimp
When I land, my bitches want for me on the strip, yep
And I don't lie, I confess
I'm the one who turn that orange vest to a dress
Gotta dress to impress though
Gotta stay clean, plus mami in the next row
She with me, what you expect? I live to be fly to death
It's the Birdman Jr., sincerely yours
When it rains it pours, when it Waynes it whores, Jazze
I (yeah, yeah)
I'm way more fly than you (that's right)
I'll take your dime from you (that's right)
Now she wanna spend all night with me
(She wanna wake up with Weezy F. Baby)
Let me be the one that you throw it to (throw it back, ma)
(Throw it back, throw it back, throw it back, ma, yeah)
Baby, I'd like to spend the rest of my night with you (yeah)
(So how 'bout you? Yeah, yeah)
Baby (so how 'bout you?)
Ayy, now why you wanna go and do that?
I can see through that
Tattoo right there like I can't view that
Girl, what that say? Wait, who that?
Bet he was lame, bet he ain't Lil Wayne, no
Haha, 'cause I'm way more fly, yeah
Have you hangin' 'round a bunch of yayo buyers, nope
And not a day go by us
We don't get higher than the telephone wires
Cut your telephone off, we ridin'
Where phones don't roam, they don't even come on
You're far from home so leave it alone
You creeping with the king of the throne
You sleeping in a tee and a thong
With your hair in a pony
I ain't got no blinds, we can stare at the morning, yeah
But I can't be there all morning
I'm a pimp, baby, yeah I'm going, going, going, gone
I (yeah)
I'm way more fly than you (that's right)
I'll take your dime from you (that's right)
Now she wanna spend all night with me (she wanna wake up to Weezy F. Baby)
Let me be the one that you throw it to (throw it back, ma)
(Throw it back, throw it back, throw it back, ma, yeah)
Baby, I'd like to spend the rest of my night with you (yeah)
(So how 'bout you? Yeah, yeah)
Baby (so how 'bout you?)
Uh, uh, I'm sorry, I was grooving
Gotta love that laid back Mannie Fresh music
But let's get back to what we was doing
Laid back in that 'Llac on Pat Ewings
That's 33 re-tires, he fire
These streets ain't papaya, mind ya
Gotta keep heat on your side too, ma
So I'm a get three more and I'ma cop you one
Wait, nah, hun, 'cause you ain't exempt
If your ass ever trip, I'll give you a clip, yeah
But I love the way your jeans huggin' your hip
And you walk kinda mean, how you strut with a dip
And you talk kinda clean and you lick your lips
But I can't fall for you 'cause I stick to the script, yeah
I said I stick to my grip
I stick to my money, that's life to me
Sorry honey, Jazze
I (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm way more fly than you (yeah, that's right, yeah)
I'll take your dime from you (that's right)
Now she wanna spend all night with me (she wanna wake up to Weezy F. Baby)
Let me be the one that you throw it to (throw it back, ma)
(Throw it back, throw it back, throw it back, ma, yeah)
Baby, I'd like to spend the rest of my night with you (yeah)
(So how 'bout you? Yeah, yeah)
Baby (so how 'bout you?)
So how 'bout you, yeah
So how 'bout you
See what I'm talking 'bout sweetheart?
You ain't even gotta have John Madden
You ain't gotta have Dick Vitale
You ain't gotta Lee Corso
You ain't gotta have Stuart Scott
You ain't gotta have Linda Cohn
Know what I'm talking 'bout?
You ain't gotta have the staff of ESPN
You ain't gotta have the ABC staff just to speak sports, baby
Cause I got game, sweetheart
Just fuck with your boy and I'll get you a jersey
What you want me to put on the back?
"Daddy's little girl," that's right
Know what I'm talking 'bout?
See, I can't give you the game, but I can show the game
And you can see what you see and peek how you peek
And get what you get
Know what I'm talking 'bout?
Weezy
Writer(s): Al L. Green, Willie Mitchell, Al Jr. Jackson, Byron O. Thomas, Dwayne Carter, Phalon Anton Alexander
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Hipgnosis Songs Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
The Meaning of Earthquake
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