Lil Wayne – Surf Swag Lyrics

Surf Swag

Lil Wayne

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"Surf Swag." - Lil Wayne

Sunday, 25 October 2026, 12:54 pm

Album: No Ceilings Tunechi - EP

Track No: 01

KE on the Track
No Ceilings
Oh, okay
I got this chrome on this Bugatti, I'm strong in this Bugatti
Two V8s, ain't no such thing as drivin' calm in this Bugatti
Bitch, I'm bad, I'm worse, I'll pass the purp
Don't fuck with me 'cause right now I'm higher than Captain Kirk
I swear I be the sickest ****, you can ask the nurse
And if you throw it in a bag, I bet I'll snatch her purse
Okay, I spazz, I curse, you last, I'm first
I'm on your ass, like dirt, behind that cash, get murked
I'm talkin' big shit, ****, join my hit list, ****
What's the matter? Check your bladder, I'm the shit, piss ****
Shoot the witness, ****, hold court in the streets
And convict this ****, ol' dickless ****
Man, I'm runnin' with the blocka, Young Money mothafucka
You think we gon' do our thing? Well, ain't it sunny in the summer?
And we comin' for the commas, and whoever among us
And you know I'ma bust my ass until my crew very humongous
I said, "T.I., hold your head, and Mack, hold your head"
Wish I could, but I can't say some other names 'cause of the Feds
And to my Bloods, code red, man, you know how we play it
And if it costs to be the boss, oh well, I guess I gotta pay
I'm a New Orleans ****, I don't take no shit
Take the brain off the whip, now it don't make no sense
Stunt hard on these bitches, I ain't promised tomorrow
Now women kickin' it with me like Nomar Garciaparra
Fuque roll them killer plants, the Lil' Tune Shop of Horror
And we roll them bitches thick, make 'em look like Tocara
Man, I'm too much for these **** and three much for these hoes
The world is in my hands and I keep my hands closed
I love my baby mommas, they get my highest honor
Gotta take care of them kids, man, I know you heard Obama
And I live on an island, Atlantic in my backyard
I just tell my pilot to land it in my backyard
Quarterback shotgun, you don't get any sack yards
Bitch, I ball hard, breakin' all the backboards
Pretty Boy Floyd, step up, I will crack yours
And even at the White House, we pull up at the back doors
Walk around like I'm 30 feet tall
Tiger Woods, all these hoes tryna birdie these balls
In the Porsche 911, like emergency calls
Man, I just be chillin', I'm cool like Lou Rawls
Young Money in the buildin', I'm puttin' up new walls
**** take your Mrs. Officer and set some new laws
My flow is like rubbin' two logs
Young Mula, we the new shit, new drawers, uh
Now get off my dick, I ain't fuckin' with ya
Watch me shoot to the bank, I'ma money pistol
Weezy beat the beat up like Sonny Liston
Redbone do me good, then her friend assist her
I mean, the bitch she never met, her best friend or sister
I leave the pussy micro-soft like Windows Vista
Young Tunechi, pop that coochie for a goon, ho
Bullet in you boy's memory, now you act like you don't know
Eastside, who I do it for, Eagle Street, right by the store
Katrina wiped the city out, but couldn't fuck with Hollygrove
Lost some real **** I knew from a long time ago
But Heaven or hell, I'm hopin' that they be where I'ma go
Take a ****'s gal and make her come give me a private show
Still long hair, don't care like a Navajo
I'm the hardest shit, go in your ass and search
I smash this verse and I swag and surf
No Ceilings

Writer(s): Lil Wayne, Michael Gordon, Jr., Alviticus Bryant, Sedarius Spearman, Jared Rice, Keishaun Opatrick Watts & KEVIN MICHAEL ERONDU.

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