DJ Storm, Lil WayneBuy this song

I hate gossip,
And I don't walk around looking for it, you know? 
But yesterday it seemed to just wander until it found me,
You know like,
 Gossip found me
Then why don't you just provin' it
How? You don't know how to prove it?,
Well, what you just do is.

Stop, hatin' on a nigga 
That is a weak emotion 
The lady of a nigga 
And you could get tipped 
Like ya waitin' on a nigga, 
Put a body bag and an apron on a nigga 

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 po-lite, 
but you bitches in my hair like the fucking Po-lice
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, analyzin' critacizin',
You should realize what I am and start epidamizin'
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 dyin'
It rains a lot in my city, because my citys cryin'
 because my citys dyin'
But I emerge from all of that, I am a livin pio-neer, sighin'
Fear God, not them
 Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the booth and
And, then I leek a tub in the boot, I leave a blood bath,
 Sorry there's a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at?
I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe
No nigga 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 must ask

Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over)
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 meat 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 bakin' a ziti
You niggas want beef?
I want a steak in the weed B
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica where weed be
Hard body nigga, takin' it easy
All about my paper, bout my paper like Eazy
Why do rappers, lot of rappers, lot of fans, lot of rappers, lot of rappers 
Lie like actin', cut the motherfuckin' cameras 
Cut the check, nigga fuck your pops
And make it out to Mr. Hip Hop

I'm not dead, I'm alive 

And I ain't dead I'm alive


Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

Discuss the Gossip Lyrics with the community:


Use the citation below to add these lyrics to your bibliography:


"Gossip Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2017. Web. 24 Jun 2017. <http://www.lyrics.com/lyric/19711767>.

Missing lyrics by DJ Storm?

Know any other songs by DJ Storm? Don't keep it to yourself!

Watch the song video