Lil Wayne - Gumbo (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Lil Wayne - Gumbo (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
Yo Pierre, you wanna come out here?
We been outchea
Never 'bout a bitch, it's
'bout a check my nigga
Never 'bout the bitch about
the check my nigga
That's my nigga!
Make me do construction
in your section nigga
Rari' doin' donuts that's
my breakfast nigga
Okay you got soldiers,
I got veterans nigga
And I got that white, like
One Direction nigga
Kesha nigga, only God can judge you
I'm a sentence you the
death my nigga (yeah)
And you are not a topic
in my section nigga
Math teacher taught me how to count
my fucking blessings nigga
Got married to the fucking
mob when I met it nigga
Everybody cried at my motherfucking
wedding nigga
Everybody 5 in my motherfucking
section nigga
Hoodybaby six, so numbers lying
in my sections nigga
Still got them bloods, like a vessel
nigga, that's right nigga
Tell a blind nigga, watch
your step my nigga
Left, right nigga, whoa
I let my niggas glow, my
niggas don't speak
BAP! BAP! BAP! Quote, un-quote
Never had cold feet
Stepping out, moving snow
Cut the heads off the sheep, and
send them all around the GOAT
O-M-W, B-M-W, N-E-W
I got that R-A-W, for the L-O-W
That's non-refundable, that's L-A-W
And we hate deductibles, like
police hate untouchables
They see me in the car,
then they F-O-L-L-O-W
I drive S-L-O-W, with that B-L-O-W
I like it very colorful
When it come to my jungle juice
I'm outchea yelling "Fuck a truce!"
If he gon' act like mother
goose (whoa)
It's never bout' the kids, about
the pets my nigga (no)
It's right between the ears, above
the neck my nigga (whoa)
It's very quiet, when you hear
the weapons nigga (shh!)
They verify you by your dental
records nigga (Six Shit)
Fuck the city up and I
got the glizzy tucked
Dick hanging from the mop,
look like a billy club
Flyest niggas from the city,
bitch, that's really us
You pussies talking, boo boo
boo, now you really fucked
Ridin' in the range with
Maine, we switch lanes
With my bottom bitch, walked
the beach in Biscayne
Real P shit, that's that M.O.B. shit
Look at me now, these pussies
said I wasn't gon' be shit
Yeah, got a homie named Trel from
Hoover, he might shoot you
Red rag hangin' out my right
pocket, but I'll blues you
When them roosters touch down, we
make them bitches cock-a-doodle
Take a shot at me over a beat,
bitch, I'ma shoot you
Got a bitch named Vicky, she
pretty, she keep me stiffy
Glock .40 in her purse, don't
tempt me, her finger itchy
She ride so I keep her with me
She shy but not with that glizzy
She high from hittin' the blizzy
Eyes red like trippy
Hoody rollin' up, that boy
smoke like a hippie
Fill my double cup up with mud,
that's right, I'm sipping
Yeah, retarded with it, I just
might be the hardest with it
And you a rat, you be politickin'
with the Sarge, Lieutenant
Fuck all you bitches
Gudda
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