500 Degreez

[Intro]

It's the real shit, yeah

500 Degreez this time biotch

Yes sir, you already know

[Verse 1]

You see me? I eat, sleep, shit, and talk snaps; so fuck rap

Man I got weed, pills, pistols, all crack

Bitch niggas, where ya hearts at?

Y'all ain't stuntin' like us

Bitch niggas, where ya cars at?

They like, "Wayne, why the fuck you dressed in all black?"

I'm about to bring CMR back

And all the lames, we done lost that

And all we got is Weezy, Weezy, and Lil' Weezy to fall back

I'm about to lock it from the summer to the fall and back

"It's Weezy baby!" The bar is back

And the wheels on my car? You gotta alter that

Stop playing, I've been balling jack

You don't want my Glock spraying, I hit all them cats

You don't want my stomach ache, I shit on them cats

I get on them gats, Fresh and B? It's all a wrap!

If I'm the only Hot Boy, then what do you call that?

[Hook]

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

[Verse 2]

Bitch what? I'll bust ya ass up

Don't even go there round

Niggas get your cash up

We probably need to clash up

This shit got me 'bout to ass up

They finding niggas in they shit with they ass up

It ain't October 31st but we gon' mask up, and guess what?

You know I heard they got some nice chain

And for the right price I'll bust the right brain

And mommy hot 'cause I pull up in that white thang

Oh but your nigga might be fly but I still get trifling

Riding through the city just me and my flame

Friday night special, professional tight aim

A gangsta is who you hearing

I'm in my building with 20 bricks in the ceiling

I'm more real than, I got more scrill than

Got more skill than them there

I'm a Cash Money Millionaire

[Hook]

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy

Hot, Hot, Hot Boy

[Verse 3]

Baby, let me get the keys to the rover

No, let me get the keys to the house in Eastover

So I can throw a 500 Degreez platinum party, then the after party

My squad stomping in this bitch, fuck a Kappa party

Don't go to rapper parties, I'm no rapper man

But when the homies come home we throw a monster jam

And all my people tote chrome, we some monsters, man

We gon' mob to the promise land

I ball big, I'm a Tymer, man

Son of a Stunna, baby girl fuck with a hustler!

Weezy keep it gutter for ya, Baby Bubba

Baby blue Mercedes Coupe, got it bullet proof

Make me shoot my 80 duke at your fucking roof

You're barking with a big dog, nigga fucking woof

Mr. S-Fucking-Q, I'm the fucking truth

Three stripes, maybe Nikes, lot of ice fucking ooohf!

That's 500 Degreez!

[Hook]

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

You don't want to fuck with Weezy

Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy, Hot, Hot, Hot Boy

Hot, Hot, Hot Boy

Bitch get your mind right, Bitch get your mind right