T-Mix - Like Father, Like Son lyrics

[Intro] There ain't no love like Like father like son, n***a [Verse 1: Birdman] Yeah It's filthy with quarter ki's in the kitchen on 'em Tha block is hot but we out here gettin it on 'em And keep a tool everytime we hit the streets Cause these n***as act a fool and we be quick to put it on 'em Them tear drops homie we so not The n***a to f** with cause we will pop .40 cal keep it co*ked n***a ready to block Keep a gun a extra clip homie thats how we rock And like father like son daddy we dont borrow We stay on the grind homie cause we grind harder And f**in with me homie you won't like You be the next t-shirt, we in ya hood all night We got birds flyin out and we've allowed the pipes We do this state to state thing and cheat the price And Rufus came home and I told him to shave But he was tellin me about them p**y n***as back in the eighties, baby [Hook] [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Listen Birdman put me on when I was just eleven He was my teacher, so I was like f** the lesson He was my preacher, so I was like f** the reverend My mother Cita, she said that I was with the devil My mother Cita, now say that he was sent from heaven So, I take heed to every single word that he tell me And I remember what my poppa told me Remember what my poppa told me, Young Stunna [Verse 3: Birdman] Yeah Im out c'here homie pitchin the game And yes I do the whole thing n***a give me my change Yes we do the same thing out the brand new Range Little n***a like his father homie doin his thing We keep the gun for paper homie aimed and co*ked Every n***a in my circle homie ready to pop We be ridin drop tops thats just how we rock And ill be ridin in the Phantom through my up town blocks n***a [Hook] [Verse 4: Lil Wayne] Alright money on my mind Look I-I-I I hear you n***as wisperin I say wisperin cause you n***as ain't hollerin bout sh** Po' p**y a** n***as gangster and me Look Birdman jr f** the world pops And we gon keep it movin even if the world stops Stay strapped and laced like girl socks Stay dapped and drapped like a birthday cake Birthdays was the worst days Now we sippin' on Louis when we thirsty Ya know, I do believe the moneys cursed me So I pray to God that the devil dont murk me, uh Little Wizzle but you b**hes call me first place And papa taught me paper chase never skirt chase I put you n***as in the closet in the shirt space You n***as yellow like Sesame street Bert's face Worst case scenario, burial Two tone Carara like Mascara, uh The G4 take your boy where ever Like father, like son the era, n***a [Hook]