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Lyrics » Letter : L » Artist : Lil Wayne » Right Above It Lyrics

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Right Above It by Lil Wayneالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Right Above It by Lil Wayne

     

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(Kane is in the building n****)

Now tell me how you love me
You know you at the top
When only heaven's right above it
We on
'Cause we on

Who else really tryna f*** with Hollywood Cole?
I'm with Marley G, bro
Flying Hollygrove chicks to my Hollywood shows
And I wanna tell you something that you prolly should know
This that Slumdog Millionaire Bollywood flow
And uh, my real friends never hearin' from me
Fake friends write the wrong answers on the mirror for me
That's why I pick and choose, I don't get s*** confused
I got a small circle, I'm not with different crews
We walk the same path, but got on different shoes
Live in the same building, but we got different views
I got a couple cars I never get to use
Don't like my women single, I like my chicks in twos
And these days all the girls is down to roll
I hit the strip club and all them b****es find a pole
Plus I been sippin', so this s*** is movin' kinda slow
Just tell my girl to tell her friend that it's time to go

Now tell me how you love me
You know you at the top when only heaven's right above it
We on
It's Young Money, motherf***er
If you ain't runnin' wit' it, run from it, motherf***er, all right
Now somebody show some money in this b****
And I got my B's with me like some honey in this b****, ya dig?
I got my gun in my boo purse
And I don't bust back, because I shoot first

Meet me on the fresh train
Yes, I'm in the building, you just on the list of guest names
And all of my riders do not give a f***, X-Games
Guns turn you boys into pussy's, sex change
And I smoke 'til I got chest pains
And you n****s know I rep my gang like Jesse James
Women are possessive, and they wanna possess Wayne
I been fly so long I fell asleep on the f***in' plane
Skinny pants and some Vans
Call me Triple-A, get my advance in advance, amen
As the world spin and dance in my hands
Life is a beach, I'm just playin' in the sand
Uh, wake up and smell the p****
You n****s can't see me, but never overlook me
I'm on the paper trail, it ain't no tellin' where it took me
Yeah, and I ain't a killa, but don't push me

N, now tell me how you love me
You know you at the top when only heaven's right above it
We on
It's Young Money, motherf***er
If you ain't runnin' wit' it, run from it, motherf***er, all right
Now somebody show some money in this b****
And I got my bees with me like some honey in this b****, ya dig?
I got my gun in my boo purse
And I don't bust back, because I shoot first

Uh, how do he say what's never said?
Beautiful black woman,
I bet that b**** look better red
Limpin' off tour
'cause I made more off my second leg
Ma'f***in' Birdman Junior, eleventh grade
Ball on automatic start
I could hand it to Drake or do a quarterback draw
Wildcat offense, check the paw prints
We in the building, you n****s in apartments
No-now, c'mon, be my blood donor
Flo' so nice, you ain't gotta put a rug on her
Do it big, and let the small fall under that
Damn, where you stumbled at?
From where they make gumbo at
Kane got the f***in' beat jumpin' like a jumping jack
But you know me, I get on this b**** and have a heart attack
Hip-hop, I'm the heart of that, n****, nothin' short of that
President Carter, Young Money democrat

Now tell me how you love me
You know you at the top when only heaven's right above it
We on
It's Young Money, motherf***er
If you ain't runnin' wit' it, run from it, motherf***er, all right
Now somebody show some money in this b****
And I got my B's with me like some honey in this b****, ya dig? (Suwoop!)
I got my gun in my boo purse
And I don't bust back, because I shoot first

(We on)
(Young young mula baby)

Writer : JOHNSON, DANIEL / CARTER, DWAYNE / GRAHAM, AUBREY DRAKE
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing

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