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Lil Wayne – Outro ft Bun B, Nas, Shyne & Busta Rhymes

Outro by Lil Wayne


Talented rapper, Lil Wayne join efforts with Bun B, Nas, Shyne and Busta Rhymes to create this amazing tune tagged “Outro”.

This intriguing record which appeared on his top charting album project called “Tha Carter IV” was officially released on 29 August 2011.

We would like you to add this undeniable hit song to your playlist, you won’t regret it yuh.

Listen up below!.



Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say, “Who that?”

Big Bun Beeda but you already knew that

Live from the state where they chop it and screw that

You hatin’ on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)

Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man

Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand

Get out my mix, man, just gon’ get you stuck

Deeper in the quicksand with no easy fix, man (damn)

No tricks, man, those is for kids

Kush in my cigar and hoes in the crib

Drank and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge

You fuckin’ with P.A. so you know what it is

I’m sitting on the fours that clack

Comin’ down candy in the golden ‘Lac

We gettin’ to the money like it’s Goldman Sachs

Said we do it for the Pimp so no holding back, let’s go!


Look who crept in, crept-crept in

Look-look who crept in, look-look who

L-l-l-look who crept in with automatic weapons

Reppin’ QB ’til the death of him

That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants

Like Kanye West and Em

Track record, goes back to the Essence

Smack adolescents who ask who the best is

I’m nasty like gas from a fat man’s intestines

I pass it, you gaspin’ for breath and you die fast

Gut ’em like a gastric bypass

But ya Nas advocates actors seem

To get typecast in the same role

Since 16 I ain’t grow a day old yet my brain grow

Cocaine white Range Rov’

Tats on my body like an art exhibit

I did real good for a project nigga

Was once a Bacardi sipper

Now it’s Chandon, fat blunts in the car with strippers

Guns in compartments hidden

I was real young, little youth, a novice nigga

Blessings, bowed down, respected

Chowed down, now my food’s digested

Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs

That’ll bust louder than the noise that I just spit

Let’s get one thing straight

That my crown ain’t for testing, testing

Chop heads off like King Henry the Eighth

Guillotine to your neck, bitch

I’m a king in this thing, don’t be dumb

Been in this shit since ’91

Niggas can’t fuck with the style I use

Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum

Calm now, was a wildin’ dude

Studied Taoism and made power moves

Watched Wild Planet, seen lions devour food

You can say that’s how I move

A monster nigga, and I don’t really like doing songs with niggas

But yo, my nigga Wayne

Let them niggas hate, ’cause like my nigga Drake say

“We ain’t got time to respond to niggas”


I’m a villain, I’m a villain, all that happens in the street

Poverty and desperation made me everything I be

I’m a shotta when I pop up with them poppers, burn ya block up

Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin’ over Gotham

Word to Poppa, Blood, Bl-Blood gang, five

It’s that Blood gang five but green is the bottom line

I run this town, I ain’t gon’ lie, they run their mouth, they ain’t gon’ fire

They actin’ like they ain’t gon’ die, until I let them ‘llamas fly

Flatbush to Bed Do-or-Die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi

Poverty and heroine, it’s no place for a juvenile

Put greed in our heart, it’s the green that we want

Cash Money is the company, and Weezy the boss!


They say I’m underrated, but un-compete-with-able

Hm… Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable

Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!

And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!

They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end

That’s when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth

Got ’em sayin’ “There he goes again!”

See now, they nominated a nigga to come and flatten everything

Now let me dominate it, nigga run

And they be knowin’ that I be blackin’ on everything

And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun

I gotta make it what they want and wake ’em when I come

And shake ’em and bake ’em and take ’em to another place

Ain’t no fakin’, ain’t no kind of mistaking

How I be breakin’ up everything

And be creating a s-s-s-situation when I’m done (Damn!)

You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich

And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!

Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick

What the fuck you niggas still hangin’ around here for, you apostrophe bitch?

Okay, now enough of that, see now I’m out the door

Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole ‘nother classic with “Tha Carter IV”