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Lil Wayne - B.G. dissin’ Lil’ Wayne Triggaman Best Rapper Alive Lyrics
(Lil’ Wayne talking)

Lil’ Wayne:
Bring the crowd and I’m loud in livin’ color,

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Lil Wayne - B.G. dissin’ Lil’ Wayne Triggaman Best Rapper Alive Lyrics
(Lil’ Wayne talking)

Lil’ Wayne:
Bring the crowd and I’m loud in livin’ color,
It is Weezy Fuckin’ Baby got these rappers in my stomach,yummy,
I’m takin’ it I ain’t askin’ ‘em for nothin’,
If you sell a million records we could battle for your money,
I’d rather count a hundred thousand dollars on a Sunday,
Watch a football game and bet it all on one play,
Still stuntin’ baby yes I’m still flossin’ latest car on the market with the top peeled off it,
Big wheels make it look a little bulky, you look a little salty have yourself a chilled coffee,
Chill out the girls is still out, even though I am a boss and got papers to fill out,
I’m busy I got paper to reel in, God I hope they snappin’ at the end of my rod,
I hope I’m fishin’ in the right pond,
And I hope you catchin’ onto every line,
Who am I?

Hook:
The Best Rapper Alive (Yep) x4
Swagger right (check)
Game tight
And they gone R-E-S-P-E-C-T me
Who?
The Best Rapper Alive (Yep) x4
Swagger right (check)
Game tight
And you should be afraid, be very afraid, yeah!

The heart of New Orleans,
Thumpin’ and beatin, living and breathin’,
Stealin’ and feedin’, peelin’ and leavin’,
Killin’ and grievin’, dearly departed,
Erased deleted,
No prints no plates, no face no trace,
Out of sight out of mind, no court no case,
Sell his chains, celebrate

block party, 2nd Lines, Zulu Ball,
Essence Fest, Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras
Shorty Bounce, Body Rock
Now he drop, now he got family
Try tell a Fed, tell a cop,
Smell a rat comin’ back to the house to the spot
Tap-tap, knock-knock,
Who is that? (ch- ch- wop!)
Triggaman, Hoodieman,
Tell the kids Boogieman,
Pistol Pete, Ammo Mammal, Gunman, blum blam! Ha ha,
Damn Sammy you done fucked up,
Pussy ass niggas put ya nuts up,
Just call me:

Hook

‘Fuck up wit all these rookie MCs,
You smell like a bunch of pussy to me, Fuck ‘em!
Fuck ‘em good, fuck ‘em long, fuck ‘em hard,
Fuck who? Fuck ‘em all! (Yep)
Like that yeah just like that,
Right back I’m on that money train and that mack’ll knock ‘em off track,
The quarterback, well protected from the Warren Sapps,
The young heart attack, I spit that cardiac,
You can’t see me baby boy you got that cataracts,
I’m right here straight out the hood just like an alley cat,
Since everyone’s a king’ll where the fuck your palace at,
Me I got callus on my hands, I can handle that,
It’s no problem, baby I so got it,
It’s just a victory lap, baby I’m just joggin’,
Yeah, and I ain’t even out of breath,
The muthafuckin’ best yet, sorry for cussin’,
Who?
Hook

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