Young Money Hospital - Gudda Gudda, Lil Wayne

Young Money Hospital, I am so sick

Kill you and your dogs, you can call me Mike Vick

I’mma get get silly, sick sick with it

Foolish like Shawty Lo, and I’mma get get it

Stick shift kitted, Maserati orange

Got my top let back with the Kamikaze doors

Hoes all over me, crazy no controlin' me

I hop up in them draws and put that dick up in her ovaries

Gudda bitch you know it’s me, I spit cooked coke

So when I rap it comes out like a quarter key

Conduct disorderly, .44 bulldogs barkin' start sparkin'

And rip out your arteries

Uhh Umm, fresh off the Carter 3

Money ain’t a thing mothafucker it’s the only thing

Ha ha, bitch don’t bother me

My car so big, the license plate says «pardon me»

Yeah, Louie V lokes on

And my Jewelry just singin' like a slow song

Young Moola bitch

You fuckin' with some soldiers, «hoorah» bitch

Hollygrove gangsta, mixtape mangler

Wheels on the coupe, lips bigger than Tapanga’s

Two middle fingers, you don’t know my anger

Better call the rangers, but you gon need the angels

No homo I got money out the anus

And I got the girls screamin' «please Lil Wayne us»

Let me explain this

I’m like Travis Barker I got stripes, I’m strapped and I’m Famous

I tell myself you ought to be shameless

I pop a pill, and now I feel painless

And I’mma shoot that if I aim this

And I ain’t talkin' bout no motherfuckin' sidekick

Like, I fuck that other side bitch

East-side I ride around, you know who you ride with

Then I’m at the hospital, if you survive it

Then I’m at your funeral just to see ya body

Pussy nigga I’m a hitman

And when it come to pussy nigga I’m a clit man

Haha shit man, I got your girl on my arm like a wrist band

And anything I do my clique can

They can lean on me like a kick stand

I’mma take us to the top

And know its not a rumor, it’s the rock