Lil Wayne – Gossip Lyrics

Gossip

Lil Wayne

Lyrics copied!

"Gossip." - Lil Wayne

Sunday, 25 October 2026, 06:54 am

Album: Tha Carter III (Deluxe Revised)

Track No: 20

I hate gossip, and I don't walk around looking for it, ya know?
But yesterday it seemed to just wander around until it found me
You know like, gossip found me
Then why don't you try proving it?
How? You don't know how to prove it?
Well, what you just do is
Stop hatin' on a ****
That is a weak emotion, the lady of a ****
And you can get tipped like you waitin' on a ****
Put a body bag and a apron on a ****
I give my all behind the mic
But you could never see if you sit behind the light
You don't have to pick me to win the title fight
But I'm a wear that championship belt so tight
And if I'm wrong, there is no right
And if I'm wrong, there is no white
I'm tryna be polite
But you bitches in my hair like the fucking po-lice
And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice
These other rappers bark, some of 'em even bite
But I'm much more bright, I give the game sight
So before you dim the light, you just might, might wanna
Think it over, think it over
Ooh, think it over, think it over, baby baby
Stop analyzing, criticizing
You should realize what I am and start epitomizing
Legitimate I got the heart of the biggest lion
I'm confident like fuck 'em all, pull out my dick and ride it
My flow sick, so sick it's like my shit is dying
It rains a lot in my city because my city's crying
Because my city's dying still I emerge from all of that
I am a living pioneer, near Zion
Fear God, not them
Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the booth and SuWoo
And then I leak blood in the booth, I leave a blood bath
Sorry there's a tub in the booth, now where the drugs at?
I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, no, ****, fuck that
I'm twisted like the strings on a boot, now where New Orleans at?
I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass
So, in your possession I-I-I must ask
Hey, haven't I been good to you?
Tell me, haven't I been sweet to you?
Drag my name through the mud, I come out clean
Cast away stones, I won't even blink
A gun is not a math problem, I won't even think
Just leave you dead like the mink under my sink
Don't believe in me, don't believe me
I've graduated from hungry and made it to greedy
My flow is like pasta, take it and eat it
But I'm a need cheese if I'm baking a ziti
You **** want beef? I want a steak in the weed b
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be
Hard body **** just taking it easy
All about my paper, 'bout my paper like Eazy
Why do rappers? Why do rappers? Lotta fans, lotta rappers
Lotta rappers lie like actors, cut the mother fucking cameras
Cut the check, ****, fuck your props
And make it out to Mr. Hip Hop
I'm not dead, I'm alive

Writer(s): D. Carter & N. Warwar.

All lyrical content displayed on this website is the intellectual property of its respective copyright holders. No ownership is implied, and no copyright infringement is intended.