[Hook] 

Bright thing on my hand saying (Look at me) 

I got your girl doing a handstand (Look at me) 

Cop them 28-inch Birdman’s (Check out me) 

Y’all dues money to ya 

Bright thing on my hand saying (Look at me) 

I got your girl doing a handstand (Look at me) 

Cop them 28-inch Birdman’s (Check out me) 

Big thighs with brown-eyes

[Verse 1] 

It’s Lil Weezy for real 

Only Cash Money Hot Boy that stood still 

I got a good deal 

I’m from a trill hood 

I smoke real good 

Slide on them skinnies in the bike with an ill hood 

Pipes, rally stripes and fog lights 

T-shirt white, three stripes with all ice 

What that boy name 

Birdman junior, huh 

Fool was smile but five is so wild 

I can smoke a green mile 

Got a chrome need a Rolls shined up for you baby 

Bling-blow, I rock a throwback Jordan 23 

Rolling on hot 23’s 

Tote a big glock 23 

You’re looking at the seventeen ward of New Orleans 

My block living me 

I want you to look hard at some easy money 

Stop playing this is Weezy company 

Uh-huh 

[Hook]

[Verse 2] 

I’m the son of Cash Money 

The fodd of the squad 

And Baby bout to buy me a house in the sky 

Cuz I’m so fly 

When my feet touch the ground sometimes I gotta ask myself why 

Coupe kinda wide but I move sorta quick 

Looking for my roof where it went 

Mink on the floor big shoes on the bed 

Windows are the tint more wood than a bench 

Working in the hood more green than the Grinch 

Please don’t play cuz I’m connected like Sprint 

Ladies on the tray popping up the back-end 

Peppermint leather with a feather in my brim 

It’s Lil Weezy 

Sucking on my wrist real breezy 

And this is what I say when you see me 

Look, and leave your broad at home she get took 

Cuz I’m a player hold the game by the book

[Hook]

[Verse 3] 

Some call me Weezy 

But hoes holla look at Lil Wayne 

In that booger-green lay like should’ve been Mace 

Sweet, do speak when I should’ve put trays 

Forget it I’ma slam it on bubba-bubba-blaze 

So move over what you say shortie 

We could do rent pussy 

Normally I wouldn’t but beating through the Texas 

And beating went to the A 

Eat with desert fey 

But yeah I’m on my way 

Cuz I know he got that hay 

Hey little mami 

You a ghetto fire tin 

You come to my post on the island 

Come on that chronic 

He-he empty vodka bottles 

I be high he be drunk that my roll model 

I rolls by you with my seat reclining 

When I stop rims don’t keep spinning they keep shining 

Money don’t stop keep spinning and keep grinding 

Cash Money what you hollering, huh

[Hook]

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