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"Grove St. Party" lyrics Lil Wayne Lyrics "Grove St. Party"
(feat. Lil B)
I got a whole lotta money, pop that pussy for me
My homie got that yopper, he a-bang it at a copper
Ayy, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party
Stove on my waist, cook your ass up, gourmet
All-black four-four, do you want foreplay?
I'm going at your face like Oil of Olay
No champagne, but you know my flag rosé
Swagger on steroids: Canseco, Jose
No Limit Records: We so 'bout it 'bout it
I'm higher than a bitch, feel like I climbed a fucking mountain
Illest nigga you know, my accountant still counting
Shot hit him a minute ago, but his body still bouncing
Beam on the hammer, beam on your forehead
Gotta kill the witnesses 'cause Birdman car red
Hollygrove Monster, Eagle Street creature
Come to your funeral, kill everybody but the preacher
I live in Miami, nigga, I'll South Beach you
Robin Leach—uh, that's how we ballin'
You know that I'm loaded, but please don't think it's sweeter
Beat one of you bitch niggas up like John Cena
Them hoes on Young Money, tell them hoes we coming
Boy, we get it popping, we ain't saving hoes, we swapping
Yeah, gangsta party, gangsta party, gangsta party
Big-head Desert Eagle, call it Sade
I just get that money, Stunna taught me that
That Xan took me under, Patrón brought me back
I'm leaning on these motherfuckers like I caught a flat
And that Glock snap back like an old Starter hat, haha!
What the lick read? I'm in the big league
I'm a breath of fresh air—let the bitch breathe
I'm tryna chillax, but I had to do it, Dev
I'm at the funeral, like, "I had to do it, Rev.!"
Mack, you my big brother, I'll split a wig for you
Put that on Mary P., until they bury me
Moment of clarity—yeah, that's my diamond game
I keep a fine bitch 'cause I like the finer things
Haha! Fuck with me, slime
No brain on the whip, I got nothing in mind, hehe
Carter 4, they ain't fucking with mine
I drop that Sorry 4 the Wait to make up for the time, yeah!
Yeah I do my thang, bitch what's up? (Swag)
Young BasedGod, came in with the ballers (Woo, woo, woo, with the ballers)
Iced-out chain, bitch, I'm rich off that same shit (Oh, that same shit)
Sixty-five hoes on my dick, bitch, it's Christmas
Straight Westside, Bay Area bitch, I'll grave em (Swag)
Pretty boy shit, Based God finna hang 'em
Armed like a cradle, and you niggas can't stop me (Can't stop me)
Shouts out to Mack Maine getting rich and cocky (Mack Maine)
Bitch it's still Westside (Swag), shouts out to Weezy
Young BasedGod with that 55 heater
187 bitch (Ayy), I pull a 2-11 bitch
With that tiny shirt, man (Yeah)
And that (Yeah) tiny pants, man (Swag)
I'm on that BasedWorld, and I fuck with Cash Money
Niggas don't understand, man, they gang like a chain (Swag, swag)
Man, that "Woo woo swag," bitch, brr-rang-dang-dang-dang
Man, bruh, off top, I'm a Wolfpack hitter (Swag)
Man, my life just a painting. And I paint you a picture, man
Think about it: a young paid-ass nigga
This that stuntin' music (Stuntin' music); bitch, I just do's it (I just do's it)
It's Lil B (Yeah, yeah) and I'll motherfucking bruise 'em, we run it! (Swag!)
Man, shouts out to Maine and Wayne, man (Woo!)
Shouts out to New Orleans! Westside
I can't believe it's niggas getting money down here who fuck with me! Swag!
Weezy, I see you! What it do!
That motherfucking partying
Bitches, man, what it do?
Hahahahaha
Yeah!
Ayyyyy