Yeah
Uh-huh
The f*ck was I thinkin'?
Drought 3, bitch
Yeah, let me light my see-through blunt
Whatchu know 'bout it?
Ya dig?
Weezy the name
Money's the game
Already
Hard body mothaf*cka got the heart of a killer
Young god in the buildin' 'bout to start a religion
'Bout to call Bin Laden up and order some missiles
Brang 'em straight to ya block and go to war wit' you bitches
If you hit the head then the rest fall in position
Shoot a nigga on his porch and make him fall in his kitchen
Copped a big boy Porsche wit' all the specifics
And I keep that torch, baby, call me Olympics
Red white blue pills, flippin' skills like gymnasts
And never give a bitch, money, blood or kidneys
When the gun goes, "Pow," I be at the finish
Wit' my medal 'round my neck, autograph on my tennis
The land of the murder, dope, crack and syringes
Pull up on ya in the coupe, how fat is ya engine?
Never talk to those that sat on them benches
Boy, I was in the game on 4th and inches
These niggas want the business
I'ma give these boys the business
See you f*ckin' wit' the boy that told Todd to f*ck Christmas
Got all these hoes trippin'
Got all these hoes strippin'
And we ain't PSC but them bitches know we tippin'
I just bought a pint and ain't none of y'all sippin'
Make my friends buy they own, f*ck, I'm tired of bein' friendly
Ain't gotta lie just to try to be wit' me
Bitches up in heaven waitin' at the god to be wit' me
I'm crazy for bein' Wayne or is Wayne just crazy?
I been around I'm still around like them Geico cavemen
Hairpin trigger, no, I won't shave it
I spot hip-hop in the ocean, I'm gon' save it
The South is so dirty, bitch, you can bathe it
Hollygrove, dawg, and I feel like matin'
Baby girl, yo' pussy lookin' so vacant
And it's f*ck you and f*ck Georgia Bush not Macon
F*ck waste deep, I'm in over my head
But it's cool, I'ma make it, I'm good like Meagan
Your girl wants me to come Ronald like Reagan
Your boyfriend is softer than a carton of eggs and-
I don't fear nothing but God and weddings
At the top of my paper like I'm starting a heading
My homie Santana, yeah, that's my ace
But you may know us as I Can't Feel My Face
Yeah
Weezy, bitch
Don't give a f*ck 'bout you at all
I'm paid
Been that way for a long time
Looks like I'ma die like that
'Cause if ain't I'ma just die
Haha
Yeah, see they don't know where I came from but they know where I'm goin'
And I'll tell you just how the top feels when I'm on
In the game I'm no cheetah
I'ma tiger, I'ma cougar, I'ma panther, I'ma dingo
Ocho Cinco
I'm illy, shirt softer than Gillie
In a pair of Gucci flops feelin' freer than Willy
When them niggas left I got a little bit chilly
But I just let it burn like the end of the Phillie
Weezy
Lil Wayne - Hard Body Lyrics
Lil Wayne - Hard Body Lyrics
Official
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
English
Yeah
Uh-huh
The f*ck was I thinkin'?
Drought 3, bitch
Yeah, let me light my see-through blunt
Whatchu know 'bout it?
Ya dig?
Weezy the name
Money's the game
Already
Hard body mothaf*cka got the heart of a killer
Young god in the buildin' 'bout to start a religion
'Bout to call Bin Laden up and order some missiles
Brang 'em straight to ya block and go to war wit' you bitches
If you hit the head then the rest fall in position
Shoot a nigga on his porch and make him fall in his kitchen
Copped a big boy Porsche wit' all the specifics
And I keep that torch, baby, call me Olympics
Red white blue pills, flippin' skills like gymnasts
And never give a bitch, money, blood or kidneys
When the gun goes, "Pow," I be at the finish
Wit' my medal 'round my neck, autograph on my tennis
The land of the murder, dope, crack and syringes
Pull up on ya in the coupe, how fat is ya engine?
Never talk to those that sat on them benches
Boy, I was in the game on 4th and inches
These niggas want the business
I'ma give these boys the business
See you f*ckin' wit' the boy that told Todd to f*ck Christmas
Got all these hoes trippin'
Got all these hoes strippin'
And we ain't PSC but them bitches know we tippin'
I just bought a pint and ain't none of y'all sippin'
Make my friends buy they own, f*ck, I'm tired of bein' friendly
Ain't gotta lie just to try to be wit' me
Bitches up in heaven waitin' at the god to be wit' me
I'm crazy for bein' Wayne or is Wayne just crazy?
I been around I'm still around like them Geico cavemen
Hairpin trigger, no, I won't shave it
I spot hip-hop in the ocean, I'm gon' save it
The South is so dirty, bitch, you can bathe it
Hollygrove, dawg, and I feel like matin'
Baby girl, yo' pussy lookin' so vacant
And it's f*ck you and f*ck Georgia Bush not Macon
F*ck waste deep, I'm in over my head
But it's cool, I'ma make it, I'm good like Meagan
Your girl wants me to come Ronald like Reagan
Your boyfriend is softer than a carton of eggs and-
I don't fear nothing but God and weddings
At the top of my paper like I'm starting a heading
My homie Santana, yeah, that's my ace
But you may know us as I Can't Feel My Face
Yeah
Weezy, bitch
Don't give a f*ck 'bout you at all
I'm paid
Been that way for a long time
Looks like I'ma die like that
'Cause if ain't I'ma just die
Haha
Yeah, see they don't know where I came from but they know where I'm goin'
And I'll tell you just how the top feels when I'm on
In the game I'm no cheetah
I'ma tiger, I'ma cougar, I'ma panther, I'ma dingo
Ocho Cinco
I'm illy, shirt softer than Gillie
In a pair of Gucci flops feelin' freer than Willy
When them niggas left I got a little bit chilly
But I just let it burn like the end of the Phillie
Weezy
Uh-huh
The f*ck was I thinkin'?
Drought 3, bitch
Yeah, let me light my see-through blunt
Whatchu know 'bout it?
Ya dig?
Weezy the name
Money's the game
Already
Hard body mothaf*cka got the heart of a killer
Young god in the buildin' 'bout to start a religion
'Bout to call Bin Laden up and order some missiles
Brang 'em straight to ya block and go to war wit' you bitches
If you hit the head then the rest fall in position
Shoot a nigga on his porch and make him fall in his kitchen
Copped a big boy Porsche wit' all the specifics
And I keep that torch, baby, call me Olympics
Red white blue pills, flippin' skills like gymnasts
And never give a bitch, money, blood or kidneys
When the gun goes, "Pow," I be at the finish
Wit' my medal 'round my neck, autograph on my tennis
The land of the murder, dope, crack and syringes
Pull up on ya in the coupe, how fat is ya engine?
Never talk to those that sat on them benches
Boy, I was in the game on 4th and inches
These niggas want the business
I'ma give these boys the business
See you f*ckin' wit' the boy that told Todd to f*ck Christmas
Got all these hoes trippin'
Got all these hoes strippin'
And we ain't PSC but them bitches know we tippin'
I just bought a pint and ain't none of y'all sippin'
Make my friends buy they own, f*ck, I'm tired of bein' friendly
Ain't gotta lie just to try to be wit' me
Bitches up in heaven waitin' at the god to be wit' me
I'm crazy for bein' Wayne or is Wayne just crazy?
I been around I'm still around like them Geico cavemen
Hairpin trigger, no, I won't shave it
I spot hip-hop in the ocean, I'm gon' save it
The South is so dirty, bitch, you can bathe it
Hollygrove, dawg, and I feel like matin'
Baby girl, yo' pussy lookin' so vacant
And it's f*ck you and f*ck Georgia Bush not Macon
F*ck waste deep, I'm in over my head
But it's cool, I'ma make it, I'm good like Meagan
Your girl wants me to come Ronald like Reagan
Your boyfriend is softer than a carton of eggs and-
I don't fear nothing but God and weddings
At the top of my paper like I'm starting a heading
My homie Santana, yeah, that's my ace
But you may know us as I Can't Feel My Face
Yeah
Weezy, bitch
Don't give a f*ck 'bout you at all
I'm paid
Been that way for a long time
Looks like I'ma die like that
'Cause if ain't I'ma just die
Haha
Yeah, see they don't know where I came from but they know where I'm goin'
And I'll tell you just how the top feels when I'm on
In the game I'm no cheetah
I'ma tiger, I'ma cougar, I'ma panther, I'ma dingo
Ocho Cinco
I'm illy, shirt softer than Gillie
In a pair of Gucci flops feelin' freer than Willy
When them niggas left I got a little bit chilly
But I just let it burn like the end of the Phillie
Weezy
Writer: Dwayne Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group