Clear Da Scene

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]

Fresher than a mothafuckin' cocaine pusher

Got work under the stairs, got the gun in the bushes

Anybody want beef, come and meet the butcher

Bring the punk out of a nigga like Ashton Kutcher

Fuck you pay me! like nasty hookers

I got that recipe they tell me "pass the cook book"

Fuckin wit lil' weezy baby that's a good look

So hop your ass on the good book and sha mon'

I ain't really that nigga that you would want to front on

I put ya whole life on ya front lawn .. come on

Son on that shit that none on, gun on

I can drive the whip and work the tooly while with one arm

That's word to my mom, she worry if I'ma come home

I tell her don't trip, I'm runnin' this bitch, a nigga just gettin' his stunt on

Number one stunner junior! hallelujah! fuck ya! I wish I never knew ya! PEACE!

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do they thing

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do their thing

[Verse 2: Ransom]

My hustle is gettin' gully

You fuckers will get it from me

I touch 'em with every dummy, my duffel is filled with money

You pop your lip and get ya man shot boy!

I make 'em lean and rock like Dem Franchise Boyz!

You couldn't joust wit me, nigga there ain't no doubt wit me

You run your mouth to me, I go hang you over ya balcony

They got it out for me, don't gotta spell it out for me

Jersey boy, got the whole city that could vouch for me

Don't try to play homie I'll pull the eighty out, fade ya out

Put what you was thinkin' on ya lady blouse

This a great rookie, ransom, pray for me

Take a chance, put this ape on like a bapes hooded

I heard 'em all, merk'em all wit that dirty four

Servin raw, till I'm thirty-four, that's a jersey boy

That's weezy f, ransom, grease yes!

Hand guns, bland one, go ahead, bleed to death

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do their thing

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do their thing

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]

I'ma whip that dope like a nigga 'posed to do

Hundred thousand dollar whips when the boat roll through

Triple c's, my people we triple g's, while you looking all crooked, my niggas they quick to squeeze!

Slap you with the four five, bitch who you rapping 'bout

When it come to weight, when I rick ross max it out

I'm the one that they askin' bout, in the aston martin, weed sparkin', flickin' ashes out

Rick Ross will never ask you out

When I get your number I'ma come and hunt your fuckin mouth

You gotta suck dick, if you wanna touch chips

?? 3 5 7 can't touch this

I-9 5, I traffic my body weight, in the big body Benz, got the whole body laid straight!

You straight!? I hope ya ass is

I'll leave ya ass as is

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do their thing

I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back

Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene!

Clear the scene

Let the g's do their thing