Shooter (feat. Robin Thicke)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Weezy, baby, y'all don't get shot Rapid fire, what you know about it? I brought my homie along for the ride He strapped, he can't wait to come out the barrel I heard some shouts like "Down on the floor" Then even louder, "We got shooters, shooter" I turnin' around, I was starin' at chrome Shotgun watches door, got security good Jumped right over counter Pointed gun at winkin' teller I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter My hands up, my hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter My hands up, my hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter So many doubt 'cause I come from the South But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out Bang, die, bitch nigga, die, I hope you bleed a lake I'ma play X-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake Take it offa your plate, eat it right in your face They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow With all these riches and all these riches But ain't no loaners around They thinkin' about shooters that, shooters that Guns, girls, ladies that, gunners that Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shooter Yeah, hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter No, no but I'm not I just cry, mama, I think they, hey I think they want me to surrender, shooter And to the radio stations, I'm tired of bein' patient Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers It's outrageous You don't know how sick you make us I wanna to throw up like chips in Vegas But this is Southern, face it If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics Lady walks into a shotgun surprise Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes He said, "Bitch is gonna get it", everybody gon' regret it I'm your shooter My hands up, my hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter My hands up, my hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter Sock soakin' wet, I been runnin', y'all I reload every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward Better know me, Lil' Wayne, just call me Lord Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw way past par For I'm some shit you never saw I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose or draw Yeah and then they ask who, when, where, how And my reply was simply pow They want me to surrender Oh, shooter My hands up, my hands up They want me to surrender Oh, shooter No, no I promise no surrender I got my burner And I'm your shooter