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Gossip Lyrics

Produced By: StreetRunner

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You pyonged “Lil Wayne – Gossip”

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I hate gossip
And I don't walk around lookin' for it, you know?
But, yesterday it seemed to just wander around 'til it found me
You know like, the gossip found me
Then why don't try provin' it?
How? You don't know how to prove it?
Well, what you just do is...

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop...

[Verse 1]
Stop, hatin' on a nigga
That is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga

And you could get tipped like you're waitin' on a nigga
Put a body bag and an apron on a nigga
I give my all behind the mic
But you could never see if you sit behind the light
And you don't have to pick me to win the title fight
But I'mma wear that championship belt so tight
And if I'm wrong, there is no right
And if I'm wrong, there is Snow White
I'm tryna be polite
But you bitches in my hair like the fuckin' po-lice
And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice
These other rappers bark, some of 'em even bite
But I'm much more bright, I give the game sight
So before you dim the light you just might, might wanna


[Break]
Think it over (think it over)
Ooooh, think it over
Think it over, baby baby
(Get 'em)

[Verse 2]
Stop, analyzing, criticizing
You should realize what I am and start epitomizing

Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion
I'm confident like fuck 'em all, pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is dying
It rains a lot in my city, cause my city's crying
Because my city's dying

Still I emerge from all of that, I am a living pion-eer near Zion
Fear God not them
Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot
And soo woop, and then I leave a tub in the booth, I leave a bloodbath
Sorry there's a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?

I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, nah nigga, fuck that
I'm twisted like the string on a boot, now where New Orleans at?

I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass
So in your possession, I must ask

[Break]
Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over)
Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?

[Verse 3]
Drag my name through the mud, I come out clean
Cast away stones, I won't even blink
A gun is not a math problem, I won't even think
Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink
Don't believe in me, don't believe me
I graduated from hungry and made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it
But I'm gone need cheese if I'm bakin' the ziti

You niggas want beef, I want a steak and uh we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica, where weed be

Hard body nigga, just takin' it easy
All about my paper, bout my paper like E-Z
Wider wrappers, why do rappers, lie to fans, lie to rappers
Lotta rappers, lie like actors
, cut the motherfuckin' cameras
Cut the check, nigga fuck your props
And make it out to Mr. Hip-Hop

I'm not dead, I'm alive

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