Yeah, yeah, yeah
Weezy baby, y'all (yeah)
Don't get shot
Rapid fire, what you know about it?
I brought my homie along for the ride
He strapped, he came here to come out the barrel
Rob

I heard some shouts like, "Down on the floor" (baow)
Then even louder we got, "Shooters, shooter" (yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah)
I turned around, I was starin' at chrome (hello)
Shotgun watches door, got security good (check)
Jumped right over counter
Pointed gun at, wink, he tell her (what you say?)
I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter (haha, let's go)

My hands up (yeah)
My hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up (yeah, I think they)
No, shooter (I think they want me to surrender)
But no, no, no, I can't do it

My hands up (yeah)
My hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

I think they want me to surrender
But no, I can't do it
But no, I can't do it (get 'em)

So many doubt 'cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang, die, bitch nigga, die, I hope you bleed a lake
I'm a play x-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake
I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake
Take it off of your plate, eat it right in your face (ha)
They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow

With all these riches and, all these bitches (yeah)
But ain't no loaners around (what you say?
They thinkin' about shooters that, shooters that
Guns, girls, ladies that, gunners that
Shoot-shoot-shoot-shoot-shooter

My hands up (oh my, I think they)
They want me with my hands up (I think they want me to surrender)
Oh, shooter (clap, y'all)
No, but I'm not
I just cry mama, I think they, hey
Me think they want me to surrender (shooter)

And to the radio stations, I'm tired of being patient
Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
It's outrageous
You don't know how sick you make us
I want to throw up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern, face it
If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics

Lady walks into a shotgun surprise (yeah)
Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
He said, "Bitch is gonna get it," everybody gon' regret it
I'm your, shooter (brrrrt)

My hands up, my hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up (yeah, yeah)
Oh, shooter (I tried tell you what I am baby)
Oh, shooter

My hands up, my hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up (yeah)
(Sorry but me can't surrender, me won't surrender)
Oh, shooter (me no pretender, no, yeah)

Socks soakin' wet, I been runnin' y'all
I reload, every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward
Better know me, Lil Wayne, just call me Lord
Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw
Way past par, far, I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout, baby, win lose or draw, yeah
And then they ask, "Who? When? Where? How?"
And, my reply was simply pow!

Mama, I tink dey, hey, me tink dey want me to surrenda
(Shooter, my hands up, my hands up, they want me with my hands up)
I'm sayin' mama, I tink dey, ey, me tink dey want me to surrenda
(Shooter)

No, me won't surrenda, no, no
I promise no surrenda
I got my burner
And I'm your shooter

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Bobby Keyes, D'wayne Carter, James Gass, Robert Daniels, Robin A Thicke