Ice Cream Paint Job Lyrics

Young Money, syrup in the big shot

Time to do the thing that's word to your wrist watch

Shoot the glock till it burn till my wrist lock

Rims hella big tires skinny like Chris Rock

Ho hold the gun sideways like o'dogg

Shoot a n-gga in his face knock his nose off

Make the girls say my name like a roll call

Pain killers got a n-gga bout ta doze off

Big shit n-gga talk big sh-t n-gga

Big bread bread like a picnic n-gga

Shake the whole game like the hit stick n-gga

Money spread like germs get sick n-gga

Yeaa, And f-ck them other n-ggas,

1 9 hundred who want I deliver

Concrete shoes wont help in the river

I don't care if you were Michael Phelps my n-gga

I'm higher than a mothaf-cka Alps my n-gga

I'm flyer than a mothaf-cka stilt my n-gga

Young Money sh-t top shelf my n-gga

We the mothaf-ckas like Milf my n-gga

UhUhm, Flow like Syringes

Yea I'm in my mode got a code like Da Vinci

I wan in the trenches, now I'm in the trunk

And everybody watch your back, wen your in the front

You aint never safe stop playin with a gangsta

Bring it to his face and he ran like a flanker

Bend the girl over put her hands on her ankles

I'm all over this ice cream beat like sprinkles

Why thank yous, if you a hater

I'm eatin, yous a waiter
Lil Wayne - Ice Cream Paint Job - http://motolyrics.com/lil-wayne/ice-cream-paint-job-lyrics.html
Pistol on my hip, Tomb Raider

Holla at your guala, zoom later

Young Tune n-gga, typhoon n-gga

And if you think your sweet n-gga, buy a room n-gga

Die or move n-gga, I'm on my gang sh-t,

She give me good brain like she studied at Cambridge

Lightin up a mothaf-cking blunt,

Stupid fruity swag like a mothaf-cka runt

And I be with my dog like a mothaf-cking huntin

Everyday of the week is the first day of the month

Audemar Piguet with the diamonds in the face

Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the face

We can get it poppin like a semi automatic

And if you got beef I put the biscuit on the patty

Rockstar tatted, big money addict

Running this sh-t now I'm feelin athletic

I I'm on a boat bitch, gettin sea sick

Stop playin I'm fresher then a degree stick

Street sh-t, well of course, I smoke mad weed

I'm on my high horse, please don't shoot me down, I land feet flat

Then walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back

Haha, I need a massage,

And when it comes to hoes man I got a collage

Finger on the button, n-gga just stuntin

If you aint the bank teller don't tell me nuntin

Kush so strong you can smell me coming

B-tch I go hard like the boy from 300

You think ya kick it, well boy we puntin

Young Money baby we the sh-t weak stomachs

No Ceilings... Mothaf-cka