I Can’t Feel My Face Lyrics

Yeah, uh-huh
The fuck was I thinking?
Drought 3, bitch
Yeah, let me light my see-through blunt
What you know about it?
Get it
Weezy the name, money′s the game (Yeah)
Already

Hard-body motherfucker, 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, pin the rest, fall in position
Shoot a nigga on his porch and make him fall in his kitchen
Cop the 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'll be at the finish
With my medal ′round my neck, autograph for my tennis

The land of the murder, dope, crack, and syringes
Pull up on you in the coupe—how fast 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 fucking with the boy that talked hard before Christmas
Got all these hoes tripping, got all these hoes stripping
And we ain't PSC, but them bitches know we tipping

I just bought a pint, and ain′t none of y'all sipping
Make my friends buy they own—fuck, I′m tired of being friendly
Ain't gotta lie just to try to be with me
Bitches up in Heaven waiting after dying to be with me
I′m crazy for being Wayne, or is Wayne just crazy?
I've been around, I'm still around like them Geico cavemen

Hair pin trigger—no, I won′t shave it

I spy 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 looking so vacant
And it's "fuck you" and "fuck George" Bush, not Macon
Fuck 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 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 starting 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 fuck 'bout 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'll tell you just how the top feels when I′m on
In the game, I'm no cheater, I′m a tiger, I'm a cougar
I'm a panther, I′m a Bengal, ocho cinco
I′m illy, shirt softer than ghillie
In a pair of Gucci flops, feeling freer than Willie
When them niggas left, I got a little bit chilly
But I just let it burn like the end of the Philly
Weezy