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and then listen to The Carter and The Carter 2 in their entirety
he had a whole slew of mixtapes filled with BARS over the years, but those are the 2 studio albums i'd start with
Go DJ is easily in my Top 5 tracks by Lil Wayne.. that shit gets me amped up every time i hear it
lyrics:
verse 1:
Murder 101, the hottest nigga under the sun
I come from under the Tommy busting a Tommy
You come from under ya garments, ya chest and ya arm hit
Pow! One to the head, now you know he dead
Now, you know I play it, like a pro in the game
Naw, better yet, a veteran, a hall of fame
I got that medicine, I'm better than all the names
Ay, it's Cash Money Records, man, a lawless gang
Put some water on the track, Fresh, for all this flame
Wear a helmet when you bang it, man, and guard your brain
'Cause the flow is spazmatic, what they call insane
That ain't even my motherfuckin' aim, I gets dough, boy
And you already know that pimpin'
18, how I'm living? Young'n, show that Bentley
Stunna my Pa, so you know that's in me
Gotti my mentor, so don't go there with me, oh!
(Let me hit the blunt first)
verse 2:
And I move like the coupe through traffic
Rush hour, GT Bent', roof is absent
Your bitch present with the music blastin'
And she keep askin', "How it shoot if it's plastic?"
I tell her, "You'll see if your boy run up"
She sat back and cut Tha Carter back up, uh, fo' sho'
Ay, Big Mike, they better step they's authority up
Before they step to a sergeant's son, I got army guns
You niggas never harmin' Young
Fly Wizzy, my opponent's done, I'm done talkin' (shut up)
And I ain't just begun
I been runnin' my city like Diddy, you chump
I fly by you in a foreign whip
On the throttle, with a model-bony bitch, pair of phony tits
Her hair is long as shit, to her thong and shit
Well, here we go, so hold on to this
verse 3:
Birdman, put them niggas in the trash can
Leave 'em outside of your door, I'm your trash man
I'm steady lighting up the hash, and, riding in my Jag
You will need a gas mask, man
You snakes, stop hiding in the grass
Sooner or later I'll cut it, now the blade's in your ass
You homo niggas getting AIDS in the ass
While the homie here tryna get paid in advance
I'm staying on my grizzy, I'm a bona fide hustler
Play me or play with me, then I'm goin for your mother
Niggas wanna eat, 'cause they ain't ate nothin'
But niggas wanna leave when you say you out of mustard
So I'ma walk into the restaurant alone
Leaving out, leaving behind just residue and bones
In your residence with Rugers to your dome
Like, "Where the fuck you holding the coke?"
Holding your throat, choke ---
Frisson Radio | Saturdays 6-8 PM EST | 89.5 FM (Toronto) | www.ciut.fm
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