Video Trigger Finger Feat Soulja Boy » Lil Wayne Lyrics | Musica Rap

Lil Wayne - Trigger Finger Feat Soulja Boy Lyrics

I ain't lookin' back, nigga
I'mma douchebag to these pussy ass niggas
Hammer in my draws but I nail yo bitch
Blunts like fingers, I'm bout to make a fist
Everybody die, gon' bury me alive
Grab life by the horns, put the bullshit aside
Glock clip full like the moon in the sky
I'm at the gas station adding fuel to the fire
Life ain't shit but bitches and money
Pass that weed, like I studied
Bury me in fire and watch me phoenix
Highway to Heaven, I'm taking the scenic
You tied to the track of my train of thoughts
And controlling my thoughts is like taming sharks
And these hoes wanna kick it with me, I'mma sensei
And I got fat pockets, you niggas in shape
Tools on deck, tattoos on necks
Life is a bitch, I'll make her yo ex
Better turn to God, 'fore I turn to Godzilla
How the fuck you gon' talk shit to diarrhea
Muthafucka it's on, I'm just rubbing 'em wrong
Put a bug in my ear, but not in my phone
I'll have a broke muthafucka run in ya home
For a crumb and a bone and put one in ya dome

One in ya dome
Empty stomach, full clip
I'm gon get it. Gon get it
My trigger finger itchin'
My trigger finger itchin'
My trigger finger itchin'
My trigger finger itchin'
My trigger finger itchin'

I don't like to dream about gettin' paid
You ain't gon hurt nobody like Kid 'n Play
Ain't nun sweet but the codeine nigga
Eyes hella red like chlorine nigga
I was gettin' that pussy, I was gettin' that money
Long hair, don't care, Hacksaw Jim Duggan
Too high to take a breath, too high to take a step
Two rights don't make a wrong, three rights, make a left
The cops on my dick, the feds on my nerves
I walk it like I talk it, got legs on my words
If she don't suck dick, I don't give her that dick
Got the world in my hands, I'mma dribble that bitch
Money is the issue, full court pressure
I like my blunt, Nutty Professor
I'mma straight rider with a getaway driver
Hit you dead on the money now you dead on the rival
I don't fuck with these niggas, too old for new friends
But never too rich for new money
These niggas buying hatorade by the twelve pack
Like two stomachs
I'm laced up like two shoes, miss goody
Keep that ratchet nigga
Trigger finger itchin', I'll scratch you nigga
Blow yo fuckin' brains out in traffic nigga
Got green, New Orleans, St. Patrick nigga
One bitch on the whip, one on the phone
The one on the phone, is in front of ya home
She 'bout to run in ya home, and put one in ya dome

Rest in peace to the game 'cuz I'm fresh to death
Rest in peace to the game, tell them kill theyself
Make yo deathwish, cuz I'm too fresh
Cuz I'm fresh to death, Cuz I'm fresh to death
You go broke tryna get fresh like this
Rest in peace to the game cuz I killed it
I'm fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
What you talkin', I came out a coffin

I just can't see myself, living in a house of mirrors
I bought me a double R, cuz I went from rags to riches
And these niggas nag like bitches
Actin' like little fags like Richard
And all of my bitches be bad as vision
You gotta problem I can fix it like a mathematician
I ammunition, call me ammo for short
Trukfit shirt, camo the shorts
Ya girl is a freak, ya man is a narc
Put ya son in ya arm, or put one in ya dome