Текст песни: Cannon Remix + перевод

Howdy do motherfuckas, it’s Weezy Baby

Niggas bitchin' and I gotta tote the (Cannon)

Listen close, I got duct tape and rope

I leave you missing like the fucking O’bannons

One hand on my money, one hand on my buddy

That’s the AK-47, make his neighborhood love me

Bullets like birds, you can hear them bitches humming

Don’t make that bird shit, he got a weak stomach

Niggas know I’m sick, I don’t spit, I vomit, got it?

One egg short of the omelet

Simon says: «shoot a nigga in his thigh and leg»

And tell him «catch up» like mayonnaise

Um, I’m the sickest nigga doing it, bet that baby

These other niggas dope, I’m wet crack baby

Yes, get back, get back boy, this a setback

Clumsy ass niggas slip and fall into a debt trap

Them boys pussy, born without a backbone

And if you strapped we can trade like the Dow Jones

Wet em up, I hope he got his towel on

I aim at your moon and get my howl on

Some niggas cry wolf, I’m on that dry kush

And when it come to that paper I stack books

You heard what I said

I can put you on your feet or put some money on ya head

Life ain’t cheap, you better off dead if you can’t pay the fee

Shout out my nigga Fee

See every motherfucka at the door don’t get a key

You’re outside looking in, so tell me what you see

It’s about money, it’s bigger than me

I tell my homies: «don't kill him, bring the nigga to me»

Yeah, don’t miss, you fucking with the hitman

Kidnap a nigga, make him feel like a kid again

Straight up, I ain’t got no conversation for you

Nigga talk to the (Cannon)

Yeah, have a few words with the (Cannon)

Yeah, tell it to my motherfucking (Cannon)

Straight up, I ain’t got no conversation for you

Nigga talk to the (Cannon)

Yeah, have a few words with the (Cannon)

Yeah, tell it to my motherfucking (Cannon)

From Philly to where I’m landing I’m a (Cannon)

And I’m on that Philly fighting shit and I come fully equipped

You trolley, get bodied, keep nina and shotty in the whip

If a nigga try to stick me I’mma blam him

Sing along now, di-di-dadi, I’m Free, got the butters

Got the green, he got the tan, got the whole enchilada

Owe me dough, I’m inside of ya house, tie up ya brother

Make the prick call up ya mother, she might know where to find you

I am on top of my job, the heavyweight champ of the flowers

Flow like the ocean, open water, ya drowning, I will

Four-pound him and sink him, heat him, then leave him stinking

Sharks surround him and eat him, nice to know him, I will

Roll over your squad like I’m «One Punch» Carr

You chumps, you best call General Motors, I will

Take control of your soldiers, you won’t miss 'em

'Til I toss em in the wok like chicken, General Tso, uh-oh!

I make it hard for rap niggas, I’m peer pressure

Matter of fact I’m motivation to rap better

I showed niggas how to act, how to dress better

I stay fresh, more fitted caps than bad catchers

I’m the crack, the smack, the gun, the rule

The gat, the strap, the gun, the tool

The motherfucking (Cannon)

Other words, I’m the real, for real

We can go check for check or bill for bill

We can go chick for chick or skill for skill

The deal is sealed, niggas ain’t real as Will, 'cause I’m a (Cannon)

And I handle well, pedal like Cannondale

And I got the 50-cal mag, its a handheld (Cannon)

I’m telling you niggas, I pop, put a shell in you niggas

My nice watch’ll Helen Keller you niggas

I got whores in the Canon camcorder bendin' over

Blowing 'ghan by the quarter, weed odor in the Rover, nigga

Detroit Red gettin' change like them white folks

Dump it out the window of the Range with the rifle

Pain like a bitch like the first day of a cycle

You better scurry when I pull the (Cannon)

Tracks burn the streets like a truck do the gas

I love head and caressing a voluptuous ass

I ask ya baby mama is she up to the task

She like «Damn Red, it’s bigger than (Cannon)»

My attire makes the ladies say ya man is too fly

Imported oils from Iran and Dubai

Get caught slipping with ya mans and you die

Where I’m from niggas be quick to squeeze the (Cannon)

Detroit Red always got some shit for ya ear

Show me love but keep it moving man, cause if you get near

I’ll say, get off my dick and tell ya bitch to come here

'Cause you sweating me and my DJ Don (Cannon)

Legs spread far out, you know how I’m standing

Yeah I’m posted with the big homie (Cannon)

I got niggas who don’t like rap lovin' our shit

We got niggas who was stuck on Pac bumpin' our shit

These niggas can’t see me like I ain’t been around lately

A good batter when they at the mound its gravy

Niggas salty, I’m pepper, no Spinderella

Just a cigarillo, filled with Tropicana

Yeah, Vic found that lick now we not smoking no more regular

Keep ya mid-grade, I don’t think you know no better

They love «In Da Trunk», now they wanna hear more shit

I play it modest like «nigga that’s some of our old shit,»

Got niggas I ain’t never met wanting to fight me

Got hoes that’s in love asking «why you don’t like me»?

Bitch I’m married to the game and I love my wifey

Steppin' over competition, man I love these Nikes

Yeah, I’m hot, they fanning

Niggas try to copy my style like the Canon

Don’t try to compare I’m in a league of my own

If I ain’t listed at the top, nigga the stats is wrong

All the data is off, ya info ain’t valid

Artist of the century the competition ain’t balanced

True like Master P and his two brothers

Don’t call it incest, but Juice the motherfucker, like

Chyeah