I Cant Feel My Face Video (MV)

Yeah

Uh-huh

The f*ck was I thinking?

Drought 3, bitch

Yeah, let me light my see-through blunt

What you know 'bout it?

You dig?

Weezy the name, money's the game

Already



Hard body, motherf*cker, got the heart of a killer

Young God in the building, 'bout to start a religion

'Bout to call Bin Laden up and order some missiles

Bring 'em straight to your block and go to war with you bitches

If you hit the head, then the rest fall in position

Shoot a nigga on his porch, and make him fall in his kitchen

Copped a big-boy Porsche with all the specifics

And I keep that torch, baby, call me "Olympics"

Red, white, blue pill, flip my skills like gymnasts

And never give a bitch money, blood, or kidneys

When the gun goes "Pow," I be at the finish

With my medal 'round my neck, autograph on my tennis

The land of the murder, dope, crack, and syringes

Pull up on you in the coupe, how fat is your engine?

Never talk to those that sat on them benches

Boy, I was in the game on fourth-and-inches

These niggas want the business, I'ma give these boys the business

See you f*cking with the boy that tote toys before Christmas

Got all these hoes trippin', got all these hoes strippin'

And we ain't P$C, but them bitches know we're tippin'

I just bought a pint and ain't none of y'all sippin'

Make my friends buy they own, f*ck, I'm tired of being friendly

Ain't gotta lie just to try to be with me

Bitches up in heaven waiting that done died to be with me

I'm crazy for being Wayne, or is Wayne just crazy?

I been around, I'm still around, like them Geico cavemen

Hairpin trigger, no, I won't shave it

I spot hip-hop in the ocean, I'm gon' save it

The South is so dirty, bitch, you can't bathe it

Hollygrove, dog, and I feel like matin'

Baby girl, your pussy's lookin' so vacant

And it's "F*ck you" and "F*ck Georgia Bush," not Macon

F*ck waist-deep, I'm in over my head

But it's cool, I'ma make it, I'm good like Meagan

Your girl wants me to come 'round her like Reagan

Your boyfriend is softer than the carton the eggs in

I don't fear nothing but God and weddings

At the top of my paper like I'm startin' a heading

My homie, Santana, yeah, that's my ace

But you may know us as "I Can't Feel My Face"



Yeah

Weezy, bitch

Give a f*ck about you at all

I'm paid

Been that way for a long time

Looks like I'ma die like that

'Cause if I ain't, I'ma just die, haha



Yeah, see, they don't know where I came from

But they know where I'm going

And I'ma tell you just how the top feels when I'm on

In the game, I'm no cheetah, I'm a tiger, I'm a cougar

I'm a panther, I'm a Bengal, Ochocinco

I'm illy, shirt softer than Gillie

In a pair of Gucci flops, feeling freer than Willie

When them niggas left I, it got a little bit chilly

But I just let it burn like the end of the Philly, Weezy