🎵 Live from 504 // by Lil Wayne

50 Contributors Live from 504 Lyrics “Live from 504” was a song from Lil Wayne’s Da Drought 3 mixtape. It was also feature on BET’s Rap City. The song samples Young Dro’s “Shoulder Lean.” [Intro] Dro, fuck with me (C Gutta), yeah [Verse] Live from the 504 It's Mr. Crazy Flow, jumpin' like a bungee, no rope Even in the dungeon, I glow, even if it ain't sunny, I glow If it ain't 'bout money, I go nowhere, I'm nailed to the floor Money controls where I go, it is the sail to my boat And it's goin' down, it's goin' down like there's a whale in the boat See, you can smell that I smoke, and yep, I sip that lean You hit me with that combination, it make my eyes bleed I'm a shark in the water, yep, I swim with the big So I don't have time to deal with Willie the Squid L-l-lilypad niggas, l-l-look at the monster Y-y-you don't wanna crash like La-La-La Bamba See, it's me, Ronnie, and Terry and my new drop is berry Watermelon, plum, just call it fruit punch I'm an old rapper gettin' new bucks And all you new rappers, you just new lunch (New lunch) Flow sick, so sick, need a doc, yes A creature, monster like the Loch Ness I gets hotter by the tock before I sizzle to death I just tell the clock, "Gimme a sec" In the middle of the war, where my enemy at? I'm runnin' this bitch like Eric Bieniemy back 'Cause every time I hit a track, I'm like an energy pack The instruments are cryin' out, "Where the sympathy at?" Yeah, if you bettin' money, baby, him'll be back Whatever legends look like, bitch, I'm finna be that I walked right in hip-hop like, "Where my dinner be at?" I ate that and I was like, "Where my dinner be at?" I hate that women lie, so I lie to them back Got two bitches in my pants, quiet? Neither them that Lot of bitches want dick, I give a lot of them that Let's do a pill, I can fuck you for an hour with that And to the kids, drugs kill, I'm acknowledgin' that But when I'm on the drugs, I don't have a problem with that And my niggas got guns the size of toddlers, biatch And we aimin' right at your fucking collar, biatch, pow