歌曲来自Lil Wayne新mixtape：Dedication 4，下载进入

『点击下载歌曲：Cashed Out 』

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
f-ck n*gga, them f-ck n*ggas
My blunt bigger than these lil n*ggas
Keep stuntin with your b*tch *ss
You’ll get Jacked and Jilled, n*gga
f-ck wrong with these sissy n*ggas?
I’m smoking that Bill Bixby n*gga
I’m spendin money, spendin money
Ben Franklin dizzy n*gga!
Your b*tch on my d*ck, I told her I was busy
She say “Wayne on me, Wayne on me” cause yo *ss need drizzlin’
That p-ssy came gift-wrapped: bow and a ribbon
And if she bounce that *ss then I’m dribblin
That p-ssy so wet, it turned into a Gremlin
There’s only one me, ain’t no equivalent
She give me brain, brain like trivia
I got a black b*tch and a red b*tch
I call them hoes Aunt Vivian
Chopper knock your face off
Black shades, Ray Charles
I be killing young hoes
I got your ho up in my graveyard
I ain’t working with a full deck
But I pull out that Ace card
She grab that d*ck with 2 hands
Like she about to pray for it
Clips hanging, no curfew
f-ck you and who birthed you
I’m shining like church shoes
Birdman Jr.: y’all birdfood
I’m bout it.. I said I’m about to cum
She opened her mouth: water fountain
When I’m on the scene I’m on that lean
b*tch, I’m drowsy
Man, I’m so high I don’t know what I’m laughing about
I got bars, n*gga
And it’s happy hour!

[Verse 2]
Riding round with them choppas, not them ninas
Riding around with a b*tch named Molly and she on Molly – ha!
b*tch I put my foot in your *ss: karate
Man these n*ggas can’t see me like a diary
Smoke that weed, let’s get irie
Nina shut up, that b*tch got a silencer
Top of the gun there is a scope
I close one eye, I look like a pirate, f-ck it!
Trukfit my b*tch up, Tunechi lee big nuts
I’m getting my d*ck sucked
I blow weed like it’s dust!
Spacehead: love p-ssy, hate feds
Just bought my girl a Ferrari Spider
Told her drive it like it got 8 legs
I’m a made n*gga: Machiavelli
That Mack-11 necessary
I’m a hard head: I pop the cherry
No p-ssy, no rats, no Tom and Jerry
They say your friends are your enemies?
Well, my friends are imaginary
I’m the motherf-ckin resolution like the 1st of January
My ride cold and my b*tch hot
I’m tired as hell but my d*ck not
I don’t gas no b*tch, no pitstop
Smoke Barney and Baby Bop!
Y’all n*ggas act like lady cops
My n*ggas smoke like coffee shops
That’s syrup gang, wafflehouse
Gunfight, I’ll knock you out
My b*tch titties is poppin out
We poppin up and we get it poppin
Mask on, gloves on
Like Mickey Mouse, clips stickin out
Like Nicki’s *ss
Smoking on that sticky bag
Weezy F: I’m big and bad
Small feet, but I kick your *ss
I’m the trigger man, that shooting star
Eat that p-ssy like caviar
She treat that d*ck just like a straw
How you like them apples, Microsoft?
Now wipe it off..
I do Liv on Sundays: church!
Step off in that motherf-cker fresher than some Certs
Uuh! Who the f-ck is Stevie J?
I got the ball, playing keepaway
Kidnap your *ss, kill your *ss
Then hide your *ss like an Easter Egg!
It’s Hollygrove to my deathbed
Just make sure my pillow’s fluffed
Hit a n*gga with a million shots
What you call that? A million bucks
Good weed, we p*ss around
Money talks: mine got a nasty mouth
It’s Young Money, Cash Money
Til the motherf-ckin day I’m Cashin Out!

Riding round with them choppas, not them ninas
Your b*tch wanna come round her where the gr*ss is greener
And if you p*ssing that weed I’m the wide reciever
Ad lib Tunechi follow the leader b*tch

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（本文版权归 林氏兄弟 LINS BROS. 所有，未经许可不得转载。）