Music Video

Nightmares Of The Bottom
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Wayne
Lil Wayne
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jermaine Preyan
Jermaine Preyan
Songwriter
Ben Vaughn
Ben Vaughn
Songwriter
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Songwriter
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Snizzy
Snizzy
Producer
Michael “BANGER” Cadahia
Recording Engineer
Edward "JewFro" Lidow
Edward "JewFro" Lidow
Assistant Recording Engineer
Elizabeth Gallardo
Elizabeth Gallardo
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Producer
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Sleepin' at the top, nightmares of the bottom Everybody wanna be fly 'til you swat 'em But who am I to talk? I ain't shittin' roses We in the same picture but we all got different poses Now I'm looking in my rear view, I see the world in it I try to slow down, and I get rear ended Pause, like a red light, I'm dead right Highway to Heaven, God do you see my headlights? They say you don't know what you're doing 'til you stop doing it Well call me clueless 'cause I do this Attention all shooters, I'm a shooting star Life is a course and I'm a shoot for Par Searching for today instead I found tomorrow And I put that shit right back man I'll see what I find tomorrow Young Money CMR, blood like a scar Weezy F baby and the F ain't for "Flaw" Yep, yep Yep, yep It's like I have it all, but I don't have to worry Married to the money, a true love story Only God can judge me, I don't need a jury Nothing standing in my way, like nothings my security Back to my journey, that bullshit don't concern me If I knew I was going to jail I would have fucked my attorney If you sleeping on me nigga, than I hope you toss and turning I'm so cold I'm hypothermic, ask yo bitch she will confirm it, yeah Now what we doing with it Keep opening ya grill, I'm barbecuing with it I know my shit already tight so I ain't screwing with it Some say this game is a joke well I hope they get it Okay, I'm walking on needles, sticking to the point Yeah, the streets is talking, I'm familiar with the voice I'm a gangsta by choice I hope my sons choose wiser And don't call me sir, call me survivor And they go yep, yep Yep, yep Uh, call me killer 'cause I make a killing I got this shit wrapped up, bow and a ribbon That's them twin Glocks, you can call 'em siblings And them bullets travel, better hope I keep dribbling I touch the sky, get the clouds out my fingernails These bitches think they fly like Tinkerbell But they all on my wire like Stringer Bell I let 'em be, 'cause you know how that stinger feel Know how to whip that white girl, I can spank her tail And I fuck up any track, train derail Know how to roll, never need training wheels And when the truth hurts, I pop pain pills Uh, all or nothing, or nothing else I bleed reality, I should cut myself Just had a bowl of riches and a cup of wealth And the "F" is for fuck yourself And I ain't doing nothin' but getting my share Breathin' this air And Mack's mom told me she gonna keep me in her prayers So I'm feeling alright I'm tryna stay aware And if you wanna trip than I'm a meet ya there To my niggas in the game, keep the game fair Players play, coaches coach and cheerleaders cheer I'm tryna keep spirit when the ghost disappear Weezy F baby and the F ain't for fear, uh
Writer(s): Dwayne Carter, Bryan Williams, Jermaine Anthony Preyan, Maurice Jordan, Stephen Hacker, Ben Vaughn Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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