Gossip - Lil Wayne

I hate gossip

And I don't walk around looking 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

(STREETRUNNER)

Stop hatin' on a nigga

That is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga

And you can get tipped like you're waitin' on a nigga

Put a body bag and a apron on a nigga

I give my all behind the mic

But you can never see if you sit behind the light

And you don't have to pick me to win the title fight

But I'ma 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

Think it over

Ooooh, think it over

Think it over, baby, baby (Get 'em)

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 because 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-woo!

And then I leak blood 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, no, nigga, fuck that

I'm twisted like the strings on a boot, now where New Orleans at?

I feel hip-hop stole me like a bus pass

So in your possession, I-I-I must ask

Hey, haven't I been good to you?

(Think it over) Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?

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've graduated from hungry and made it to greedy

My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it

But I'ma need cheese if I'm baking a ziti

You niggas want beef, I want a steak, and, uh, we be

Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be

Hardbody 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?

Lot of 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