500 Degreez

500 Degreez easy guitar chords by Lil Wayne

N/A
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 3

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo
  • Em

  • C

  • Em

  • C

  • Verse 1
    It's 
    the real 
    shit, 
    yeah 

    500 Degreez this time, 
    bitch 

    Yessir, 
    yessir, 
    throw 
    them Ws 
    up 

    Verse 2
    You already 
    know 
    (yeah, yeah) 

    You 
    see 
    me? 
    I eat, 
    sleep, 
    shit, 

    and talk 
    snaps, 
    so 
    fuck 
    rap 

    Man, 
    I got 
    weed, 
    pills, 
    pistols, 
    all 
    crack 

    Bitch 
    niggas, 
    where 
    ya hearts 
    at? 

    Y'all 
    ain't stuntin' 
    like 
    us 

    Bitch 
    niggas, 
    where ya 
    cars 
    at? 

    They like, 
    "Wayne, 

    why 
    the fuck 
    you dressed 
    in all 
    black?" 

    I'm about 
    to bring 
    C- 
    M- R 
    back 

    And all 
    the lames, 
    we 
    done lost 
    that 

    And 
    all we 
    got 
    is 
    Weezy, Weezy, and 

    Lil' 
    Weezy to fall 
    back 

    I'm 
    about 
    to lock 
    it from the 

    summer 
    to the 
    fall 
    and back 

    "It's 
    Weezy, baby," 
    the bar 
    is 
    back 

    And 
    the wheels 
    on 
    my car, 

    you gotta 
    order 
    that 

    Stop 
    playing, 
    I've been 
    ballin', 

    Jack 

    You don't 
    want 
    my 
    Glock 

    sprayin', I hit 
    all 
    them cats 

    You 
    don't want my 
    stomach 
    ache, 

    I shit 
    on 
    them cats 

    I get 
    on 
    them cats, 
    Fresh 
    and B, 

    it's 
    all 
    a wrap 

    If I'm 
    the only 
    Hot 
    Boy, 

    then what 
    do you 
    call 
    that? 

    Verse 3
    You don't 
    want 
    to 
    fuck 
    with 
    Weezy (no, you 
    don't, no, 

    you 
    don't, 
    no, 
    you don't) 

    You don't 
    want 
    to fuck 
    with 

    Weezy (500, I'm 
    500, oh, I'm 
    500) 

    Okay, okay, 
    nigga 
    Bitch 
    Verse 4

    what? 
    I'll 
    bust 
    ya ass 

    up 
    (nigga) 

    Don't even 
    go 
    there round, 

    niggas 
    get 
    your cash 
    up 

    We 
    probably 
    need 
    to clash 

    up 
    (probably) 

    This shit 
    got 
    me 'bout 
    ass 

    up 
    (what?) 

    They finding 
    niggas 
    in 

    they shit 
    with 
    they ass 
    up 

    It 
    ain't 
    October 
    31st but we 
    gon' mask 

    up 
    and guess 
    what, 
    ayy 

    You know 
    I heard 
    they got some 

    nice 
    chains 

    And for 
    the right 
    price, 

    I'll 
    bust 
    the right 
    brain 

    And mommy 
    hot 
    'cause 
    I pull 

    up in 
    that white 
    thang 

    Oh, but 
    your nigga 
    might be 
    fly 
    but I still 

    get 
    trifling 
    (okay) 

    Riding through 
    the city 
    just 
    me 

    and my 
    flame 
    (okay) 

    Friday 
    night 
    special, 

    professional 
    tight 
    aim 
    (okay) 

    A gangsta 
    is 
    who you 
    hearing 

    Me in 
    my building, 

    with 
    20 bricks 
    in 
    the ceiling 

    I'm more 
    real 
    than, 
    I got 
    more 
    scrill than 

    Got 
    more 
    skill 
    than 
    them there 

    I'm 
    a Cash 
    Money 
    Millionaire 

    (Cash Money, bitch) 

    Verse 5
    You 
    don't 
    want 
    to 
    fuck with 
    Weezy (no, you don't, 

    no, 
    you 
    don't, no, 
    you 
    don't) 

    You don't 
    want 

    to fuck 
    with 
    Weezy (500, oh, I'm 500, baby, 

    uh, let's 
    go) 

    Verse 6
    Hot boy, 
    hot, 
    hot, hot boy 
    Hot, 

    hot, 

    hot boy, 
    hot, 
    hot, 
    hot 
    boy 
    (yessir, Slim, 

    they 
    can
    't 
    cool 
    me down, 
    baby) 

    Verse 7
    Uh, uh 
    Baby, 
    let me 

    get the 
    keys 
    to 
    the Rover 

    No, 
    let 
    me get the 
    keys 
    to 

    the house 
    in Eastover 

    So 
    I can 
    throw 
    500 Degreez platinum 
    party, 

    then 
    the an after 
    party 

    My Squad 
    stomping 
    in 
    this bitch, 

    fuck 
    a Kappa 
    party 
    (bitch) 

    Don't go 
    to rapper 
    parties 
    (nope), I'm 

    no rapper 
    man 
    (why?) 

    But when 
    the homies 
    come 
    home, 

    we throw 
    a monster 
    jam 

    And all 
    my people 
    tote 
    chrome, 

    we some 
    monsters, 
    man 

    We 
    gone mob 
    to 
    the promised 
    land, 

    I ball 
    big, 
    I'm 
    Tymer man 

    Son 
    of 
    Stunna, baby 
    girl 
    fuck 

    with 
    a hustler 

    Weezy keep 
    it gutter 
    for ya, 
    Baby 
    Bubba 

    Baby 
    blue 
    Mercedes 
    Coupe, 

    got 
    it bullet 
    proof 

    Make 
    me shoot 
    my 
    80 duke 
    at 

    your fucking 
    roof 

    You're fuckin' 
    with 
    a big 
    dog, 

    nigga 
    fuckin' 
    roof 

    Mr. 
    S- 
    fucking- 
    Q, 

    I'm 
    the fucking 
    truth 

    Three 
    stripes, 
    baby, 

    Nikes lot 
    of ice 
    buckets 
    (oof) 

    That's 
    500 Degreez 

    Verse 8
    You don't want 
    to fuck 
    with 
    Weezy (haha, yessir, 

    uh, uhm 
    you 
    really 
    don't) 

    You don't 

    want 
    to 
    fuck 
    with Weezy (500, ah, 

    I'm 
    500, ah, ah, I'm 
    500, man, I'm 
    500, people, 
    yessir) 

    Verse 9
    500, 500 (500, man, 

    they 
    can't 
    cool me 
    down) 

    500, 500 (I mean, 
    it's burning 
    through 
    the package, 

    people, 
    this is 
    500 degrees, 
    get 
    it right) 

    Outro 1
    Degrees 
    (know what I'm sayin'?) 


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