Lyrics:

(Chorus:)

I'm (yeah)
I'm way mo' fly than (that's right)
I'll take yo' dime from you
Now she wanna spend all night with me
(She wanna wake up to Weezy F Baby)
Let me be the one that you roll weed to
(Throw it back ma, throw it back, throw it back, throw it back ma) baby
I'd like to spend tha rest of my night with you
(So how bout you, so how bout you

(Lil' Wayne:)
I'll take your bitch give her back; take your bitch again
Just because you throw her 5, I pitch her 10
Now she wanna get inside of my 66
She see my wrist blue and yellow like Michigan
She say she love her man, she misses him
But nobody do it better than that distance dick (me)
I'm a long distance pimp
When I land my bitches wait for me on the strip (yep)
And I don't lie, I confess, I'm the one who turned tha orange vest to a dress
Gotta dress to impress though, Gotta stay clean, plus momma in the next room
She with me, what you expect, I live to be fly to death
It's the bird man jr. sincerely yours
When it rains it pours, when it rains it whores

(Chorus:)

(Lil' Wayne:)
Now why you wanna go do that
I can see through that
Tattoo right there like can't I view that
Girl what that say, wait who that
Bet he was lame, bet he ain't Lil-Wayne (no)
Cus I'm way more flyer
Have you hanging round a bunch of yayo buyers (nop)
And not a day go by us, we don't get higher than the telephone wires
Cut your telephone off we ridin' where phones don't roam they don't even come on
You're far from home so leave it alone
You creeping with the king of the throne
You sleeping in a tee and a thong
With your hair in a pony
I ain't got no blinds we can stare at the morning (yup)
But I can't be there all morning
I'm a pimp baby, yeah I'm going, going, gone

(Chorus:)

(Lil' Wayne:)
I'm Sorry I was grooving
Gotta love that laid back Mannie Fresh music
But let's get back to what we was doing
Laid back in that black on Pat Ewing's
That's 33 V tires heat fire
These streets ain't papaya ma
You gotta keep heat on your side
2 must
So I'm a get 3 more and I'm a cop you one
Wait, naw hun cus you ain't exempt
If your ass ever trip I'll give you a clip (yea)
But I love the way your jeans huggin in your hip
And you walk kinda mean how you strut with a dip
And you talk kinda clean and you lick your lips
But I can't fall for you cus I stick to the script (yup)
I said I stick to my grip; I stick to my money, that's life to me
Sorry honey Jazze

(Chorus:)

(Lil' Wayne:)
So how 'bout you yea
So how 'bout you
See what I'm talking bout sweet heart you ain't even gotta have John Madden
You ain't gotta have Dick Vitale, you ain't gotta have Lee Carsole
You ain't gotta have Stuart Scott, you ain't gotta have Linda Cohn
Know what I'm talking bout, you ain't gotta have the staff of ESPN
you ain't gotta have the ABC staff just to speak sports baby cus I got game sweetheart
Just fuck with the boy and I'll get you a jersey
What you want me to put on the back
Daddy's little girl that's right, know what I'm talking bout
I can't give you the game but I can show the game
And you can see what you see and peek how you peek and see what you get
know what I'm talking bout
Weezy