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File Added: Jan 28
Lyrics Added: Jan 29
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Jan 29, (2018-01-29)

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Lyrics of gumbo ft gudda gudda by Lil Wayne
Yo Pierre, you wanna come out here?
Lil Wayne – We been outchea

[Verse 1 – Lil Wayne]
Never buy the b-----s by the cheque my n---a
Never bout the b---h about the cheque my n---a
That’s my n---a!
Make me do construction in your section n---a
Rari’ doing donuts that’s my breakfast n---a
Okay you got soldiers, I got veterans n---a
And I got that white, like One Direction n---a
Ke$ha n---a, Only God can judge you
I’m a sentence, you the death my n---a “yeah”
And you are not a topic in my section n---a
Math teacher taught me how to count my f-----g blessings n---a
Got, married to the f-----g mob when I met it n---a
Everybody cried at my m-----------g wedding n---a
Everybody 5 in my m-----------g section n---a
Hoodybaby six, so numbers lying in my sections n---a
Still got them bloods, like a vessel n---a, that’s right n---a
Tell a blind n---a, watch your step my n---a
Left, right n---a, “whoa”
I let my n----s glow, My n----s don’t speak
BAP! BAP! BAP! Quote, un-quote
Never had cold feet
Stepping out, moving snow
Cut the heads off the sheep, and send them all around the GOAT
O-M-W, B-M-W, N-E-W
I got that R-A-W, for the L-O-W
That’s non-refundable, that’s L-A-W
And we hate deductibles, like police hate untouchables
They see me in the car, then they F-O-L-L-O-W
I drive S-L-O-W, with that B-L-O-W
I like it very colorful
When it come to my jungle juice
I’m outchea yelling “F--k a truce!”
If he gon’ act like mother goose “whoa”
It’s never bout’ the kids, about the pets my n---a “no”
It’s right between the ears, above the neck my n---a “whoa”
It’s very quiet, when you hear the weapons n---a “shh!”
They verify you by your dental records n---a “Six S--t”

[Verse 2 – Gudda Gudda]
F--k the city up and I got the glizzy tucked
D--k hanging from the mouth, look like a billy club
Flyest n----s from the city, b---h, that’s really us
You p-----s talking, boo boo boo, now you really f----d
Riding in the range with Maine, we switch lanes
With my bottom b---h, walked the beach in Biscayne
Real P s--t, that’s that M.O.B. s--t
Look at me now, these p-----s said I wasn’t gon’ be s--t
Yeah, got a homie named Trel from Hoover, he might shoot you
Red rag hanging out my right pocket, but I’ll blues you
When them roosters touch down, we make them b-----s c--k-a-doodle
Take a shot at me over a beat, b---h, I’ma shoot you
Got a b---h named Vicky, she pretty, she keep me stiffy
Glock .40 in her purse, don’t tempt me, her finger itchy
She ride so I keep her with me
She shy but not with that glizzy
She high from hitting the blizzy
Eyes red like trippy
Hoody rolling up, that boy smoke like a hippie
Fill my double cup up with mud, that’s right, I’m sipping
Yeah, retarded with it, I just might be the hardest with it
And you a rat, you be politcking with the Sarge, Lieutenant
F--k all you b-----s

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