Lil Wayne – B.B. King Freestyle (feat. Drake) Lyrics

B.B. King Freestyle

Lil Wayne (feat. Drake)

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"B.B. King Freestyle." - Lil Wayne (feat. Drake)

Sunday, 25 October 2026, 01:20 pm

Album: B.B. King Freestyle (feat. Drake) - Single

Track No: 01

Ay
The blues is now kickin' in, dinner is 3 Michelin
I don't eat red meat but still got beef sizzlin'
Know that I need discipline
I keep singin' for all these hoes, they keep listenin'
**** love to bro up with the boy and dap fists
But we are not equivalent, dog
I been the only child, don't need siblings
And I'm past them like the times that he's livin' in, okay, man
If you saw what I flew here, you'd be like he's sickenin'
If you not runnin' some top, we not gon' keep kickin' it
Classics I keep scribblin'
Lights in the Universal buildin' just keep flickerin'
Money just keep comin' in
You would think I'm Irish the way that this stays Dublin
I could feed the country with the tax that I've paid governments
Whatever they're doin' with my cash is very troublin'
Ok, February came around I used to get paid shovelin'
Sold clothes, walked dogs, trust me I stayed hustlin'
When it came to school, there's no way that I'm A-plusin' it
So I just dropped out of it, trust me I'm not proud of it
**** get too comfy in they spot they get knocked out of it
**** get a gun just so they could make props out of it
Shorty make a scene in the house, she get locked out of it
Yeah
You not 'bout to be chillin' in this bitch with kicked feet up
I'ma make you bounce out this hoe like Big Freedia
Pete-O used to throw a purple tint on the two liter
First private plane I ever rode was an 8-seater
Before that I got the bedroom hot with a space heater
On top of that I didn't have shit to my name either
That's real
But now I'm givin' house tours till it's back to world tours
Play that "Mask Off" when they find the real cure
I may not be good for her, but I'm real to her
Got no time for her, but give Richard Mille to her
That's the only way I know how to express love
My dogs love sticks and drums like they Questlove
All them jokes about Aubrey, they got me messed up
For real
I come with a lot of complications inside me
There's always people misleadin' me that are tryna guide me
Everyone wants to try me, but no one wants to buy me
Everyone wants to meet me, but no one wants to keep me
Everyone talkin' lemons when everything is peachy
Everyone got their hands out and it ain't to reach me
Mhmm
Mhmm
Everyone got they glass out, let's drink to Weezy
Every **** that stare me down, just came to see me
Choppin' up a lil' cash cow, that's steak I'm eatin'
Check deposits, high risers with extra closets
The sex platonic, I talk intelligent, text ebonics
The electronic guitar's whinin', that's just Nirvana
Tommy Gun on the counter, I call it Mr. Thomas
That'll keep **** honest
I'm dosin' off in the driver's seat 'cause the seat give massages
Decimal point money these numbers too steep for commas
I'm eye to eye with **** I can't help but to see beyond 'em
Got a two-seater problem
**** thinkin' they cold, I knock the flu season out 'em
Bitches forget they hoes, and that's when Tunechi remind 'em
I used to fuck Gucci models, I'm fuckin' Gucci designers
I keep it too G regardless, I'm gettin' too deep for divers
Let me resurface I'm flexin' on purpose
She especially curvy bet she be servin' every purpose
Perfect, I'm better than perfect
I'm sick, I need to see a medical person
Eatin' all of these rappers with these edible verses
All I gotta be is all that I can possibly
She really really into me, then suck it all up outta me
I'm proud of me, I don't know how to be sorry, apologies
You fuckin' with my math, you better know some Trigonometry
'Cause I'ma be bustin', leave your lima bean at your Momma feet
I flipped the economy like Dominque Dawes
They say I'm trippin' I guess they wishin' I finally fall
I don't need war, I need a bitch that know I'ma need yours
I'ma need more, **** is shifty like Honda Accords
Fire alarm, ain't got No Ceilings we climbin' the walls
Higher than yours, I fuck your bitch and she die in my arms
Lion has roared, No Ceilings 3 with my mind on the 4th
Holla at your boy

Writer(s): Lil Wayne, Aubrey Drake Graham, Matthew Jehu Samuels, Kameron Cole & Alicia Keys.

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