Fly Out

(album: Tha Carter II - 2005)

We're here
I said we're here
The back of Tha Carter, yeah
The back of Tha Carter
Two, uh
Yeah
This here is
The end of Tha Carter Two, people
Hey, yeah

I got the game on ball and chain
I threw the key in the drain, I'm like a key in a drought
I spent a G on these frames, but my vision is priceless
Seeing through you niggas like a fucking psychic
Hearing through the grapevine, niggas wanna hate mine
Say my name and die in the daytime
You catch my drift, man, you better be Peyton
Boy, the heat's on, they're making peace bonds
I'm in this bitch throwing up the "17th" sign
Straight frowns, no daps, strapped three times
That Tec-11, AK-47, one Beretta
Ready for whatever, tell them pussy niggas, "Come together"
Heavy better, nigga, super-soaker wet a nigga
Six feet under flowers, you ain't nothing but a petal, nigga
I'm just a little nigga trying to be a civil nigga
Thirty-years-old, shit, that'll be a given, nigga
Quit it, Wayne, your Mom is listening
But she ain't really tripping 'cause the pots is pissed in
Them niggas tripping until the shots whistling
Hear them bullets hissing like a cobra at attention
I got a bitch and quit calling women bitches
As long as she don't worry 'bout the coke in the kitchen
No preventing the grind, I gotta get it
I'm admitted to the game, true player, no quitting
There you go shitting on the way a nigga thinking
Only history I know is Benjamin Franklin
And since the future ain't promised to no one
I live every day like this is the sure one
Trade in the tidal wave, this is the ocean
Stand in that heat 'til the motherfucking snow come
And it feels so fucking good
Throw my dope like a rope, let 'em tug and pull
No hope for the hopeless, rats and roaches
Running 'cross the porch, in the attic there's a fortune
Come and get it, automatics in motion
We're banging for the bread, nigga, even the molded
I got my loaf, I got my toast
Chaperone of the South, I got my coast
Yeah, and until I die
I'm the, the-the, the-the, the Best Rapper Alive