Lil Wayne - Ice Cream Lyrics | FAST DOWNLOAD

Ice Cream

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Young Money
Syrup in the big shot
Time to do the thang
That's word to your wrist watch
Shoot the Glock
'Til it burn, 'til my wrist lock
Rims hella big
Tires skinny like Chris Rock
Hold the gun sideways
Like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face
Knock his nose off
Make the girls say my name
Like a roll call
Pain killers got a nigga bout to doze off
Big shit, nigga
Talk big shit, nigga
Big bread
Bread like a picnic, nigga
Shake the whole game
Like the hit-stick, nigga
Money spread like germs
Get sick, nigga
Yeah, and fuck them other niggas
1-900-Who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes won't help in the river
I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my nigga
I'm higher than the motherfucking Alps my nigga
I'm flyer than the motherfucking stealth my nigga
Young Money shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the motherfuckers like MILF my nigga
Flow like syringes
Yeah I'm in my mode
Got a code
Like Da Vinci's
I was in the trenches
Now I'm in the Trump
And everybody watch your back
When you're in the front
You ain't never safe
Stop playing 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 you!"
If you's a hater
I'm eating
You's a waiter
Pistol on my hip
Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala
Summa laude
Young Tune, nigga
Typhoon, nigga
And if you think it's sweet
Buy a room, nigga
Damu nigga
I'm on my gang shit
She give me good brain
Like she studied at Cambridge
Lighting up a motherfucking blunt
Stupid fruity swag like a motherfucking Runt
And I be with my dog like I motherfucking hunt
And every day of the week it's the first of the month
Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the time cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi automatic
And if you got beef I'll put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted
Big-money addict
Running this shit
Now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch
Getting sea sick
Stop playing
I'm fresher than a Degree stick
Street shit
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
Hah, I need a massage
And when it come to hoes, man
I got a collage
Finger on the button
Nigga just stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me nothin'
Kush so strong you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go hard like the boy from "300"
You think y'all kick it
Well boy, we puntin'
Young Money, baby
We the shit, weak stomachs
No Ceilings, motherfucker

Date Added: 2017-08-25
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