[Robin Thicke]
I heard some shouts, like, "Down on the floor!"
Then—even louder—"We got shooters, shooters!"
I turn around, I was staring at chrome
Shotgun watches door, got security good

Jumped right over counter
Pointed gun at, wink, he tell her, "I´m your shooter, shooter, shooter"

[Robin Thicke]
My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "Shooter!"

[Lil Wayne]
So many doubt cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang! Die bitch-nigga die! I hope you bleed a lake
I´mma play x-ray, helping y´all see the fake
I´m just trying to be the Great, trying to get a piece of cake
Take it off of your plate, eat it right in your face

They got a whole lot to say but I don´t listen
Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin´, pow!

[Robin Thicke]
All these bitches and, all these bitches!
But ain´t no lovers around
They thinking about shooting! Them shooters
Got the guns, girls. Ladies, them gunners that
Shoot shoot shoot shoot! Shooters!

[Robin Thicke]
My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, "shooter!"

[Lil Wayne]
And to the radio stations, I´m tired of being patient

Stop being rapper racists, region-haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick-takers
It´s outrageous! You don´t know how sick you make us
I want to throw it up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern, face it
If we too simple, then y´all don´t get the basics

[Robin Thicke]
Lady walks into a shotgun surprise
Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
He said: "bitch is gonna get it, everybody gon´ regret it
I´m your - shooter!"

[Robin Thicke]
My hands up, my hands up

They want me with my hands up
Oh, "shooter!"

[Lil Wayne]
Socks soaking wet, I been running y´all
I reload every hundred yards, I´m comin´ forward, you better know me
Lil Wayne, just call me Lord, hard
Take pain like Tylenols, raw
Way past par, far, I´m some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose, or draw
And then they ask who, when, where, how and
My reply was simply, "Pow!"