Text: Lil Wayne & Juelz Santana. Blow: The I Can't Feel My Face Prequel. Hot Shit.

I pop up in the middle of the hot block
Make the Drop Top play hop scotch on them hoes
Lil Wayne right from Kim's corner
Stole a chopper wake a nigga ass up like a morning show
Put me in the game and I see em callin audibles
Hearts beatin fast better work on ya cardio
How you want it video, audio, cardio,
Body get mailed to ya gal, I'll,
Pussy ass nigga die slow don't yell,
I put it on the streets an I bet it's gon sell,
What's under that floor, well it sure isn't nails
Just how I make money cracker I'm a make bail,
I'm a libra, and my sign is a scale,
And if it don't measure up, than a nigga gettin killed
The smaller the car, the bigger them wheels
And a nigga so hot that I give a bitch chills
And if she like coke than I give the bitch hills
No stilettos and pumps, 21 bumps
21 jump street if anyone jumps in
Once you hit the ground that's when everyone stumps
Perry ayes you weigh everyone's drunk,
So it's 21 jump street if anyone jumps
The milli goes POW and the semi goes PAP
An itty-bitty bullet will make a skinny nigga fat,
Hard body baby knockin any nigga back
And it's money over bitches not a penny hoe scat
And it be like that till that line goes flat
But in the mean time, I'm in that bent no hat that's
No top if you didn't know that
On them chrome Sean johns
With the cut so black
... in fact y'all can leave that be
Bitch I'm ballin like I got scouts checkin for me,
YEA!
I'm on third base comin' home with tha paper
I got a hundred pounds comin' home from Jamaica
I can't think my sprites so pink
And I might be floatin'
But I will not sink
WEEZY