Lyrics:

Yeah, what it do
Haha, heh, already
Yeah, listen man, yeah my niqqa
We got this shit
Ey, ey, I tried told them, yeah
Cash Money Millionaire, ya know
I Can't Feel My Face
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go
Let's go, let's go, ha, I told them
Shoutout to Bun B, yeah

Yeah, straight up D-Boy, 17th Ward
Miss Katrina turned my city to a seesaw
I keep goin' for them corners like Lyor
They gon' either respect me or he all
Burnin them bitches like a sequel
Punk, put a hump in your back, they called it Igor
What, this shit is hard, any yard where we are
We call that cocaine rice, I got that Condoleezza
Huh, you fuck with me chump, I rock your teacup
I say before you spend a dollar boy, put up the re-up
Yep, get up 'cause we up, foot up and knee up in the game
Put up and shut up, I hit your head up or go bang
Birdgang and the Birdman J, Lil Wayne
Here to hang, other words here to stay, feel my pain
Fireman, I spark and I rain, I hark through the flames
Yeah, all for the change, yeah
Call it insane but I'm a hustler to the muscle
And them new drop Bentley's look like pussy in the summer
So I'm fuckin' that, huggin that block like I'm lovin' that
Never sell a crumb where my mother at, run with that
You can come at me for beef and shots come with that
Your bitch come at me for wood and I'm the lumberjack
I come in that Similac Maybach, shades black
Lookin' like I'm tryna bring yay back, asap
Give it to 'em raw, no ajax, taste that
Fuck around and make your face crack
I know niggaz that shoot dope, arms lookin' like a racetrack
Nigga missed a vein in his neck, his whole face fat
You can't take that, well I can't take back
Where I come from so I learned how to make that
Yeah, turn that straight to a G stack
Stack up my cheese, now I'm screamin 'where the keys at'

I Can't Feel My Face
I really don't think they ready for this

I'm from block one, five-one, where my young
Niggaz on the rise to get a name, don't try them
Wayne, I fell your pain and I see your stress
How they think your people 'posed to get through Katrina off of FEMA checks
Coke in a Pyrex, dope and the ice, yes
Mind on the highway, road signs, right, left
And that's the mind-state of kids growin' up
Still they wonder why the crime rate's goin' up, throw it up
Eastside, Westside, Southside, Northside
Fuck with my money, I torch guys, off guys
Hire men, fire men, send 'em to a higher man (there he go)
Torture em, vice grip, pliers man
Niggaz turn to tin foil when they see the iron man
Pressure bust pipes, I apply it and
Move like a lion through the jungle (yes)
There is none higher than me
Don't slip up and wind up in the lion bend
Big body Benz eyein' man, higher than
A chick that flight-attend or air force flyer man
Bad bitches, I fly 'em and fuck em
Send 'em back home hyped, feelin' like they on nitrogen
Just call me the Pied Piper man
Still get the coke through the pipeline then off to the piper stem
And I'm still gettin' paper back in rubber bands
I still got paper bags comin' in
I still got that mattress with the paper bags under it
Comic books, Playboy baby mag under it
Still, I still got ties with my guys who don't speak no English
Them vatos, they got those cheapest
Got no green card, got no visas
And got those Pablo features
They drop off then pick up, I pick up then drop off
The drop off was picked up and then what, I get it