conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Black Republicans with the following description: from Da Drought 3, arguably the best Lil Wayne’s mixtape. The album was #27 on Rolling Stone’s list of the Top 50 Albums of 2007. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Lil Wayne & 
  Juelz Santana
  ]
  *Pfff...*
  Now, this is what they've been waiting for
  Yeah, yessir
  Ya dig?
  Ya dig?
  Santana!
  Weezy F!
  Ayy!
  Haha!
  Ayy, Wayne
  What up, man?
  What you been working on, nigga?
  Oh, you know, I got Curren$y new album, and—and quietly working on my album, ya dig?
  Oh, I'm ready to brush my shoulders off and drop my next album too, nigga
  That's what it is!
  But dig this
  Hmm?
  They wanna know what we been working on together
  Yeah, yeah, that's that "I Can't Feel My Face Shit," they know that there
  Yeah, you know
  They know what it is
  So if they ever thought the South and the North was gonna collide
  That's what they thinking!
  Guess what? We already did
  Already! Go! [Verse 1: Juelz Santana]
  I'm feeling like a Black Republican, naw, I can't call it
  More like a Black Democrat runnin' 'em out of office (Get out)
  Young Barack-a Obama, I'm all for it
  The Rock of Gibraltar has now fallen on you
  I protect my land like a farmer
  Pockets stay chubby like Toccara (Yup), huh
  Or should I say fat like the Parkers
  Tote big guns like I'm still playing 
  Contra
   (Ha)
  Y'all washed up like money that's laundered (Yeah)
  Y'all funny, I'm bonkers
  Honest, girls strapped to my dick like a harness
  Rockstar, I'm flyer than an ostrich (Ha)
  And I cover east, west, north, south like a compass
  I shall shine forever, never tarnish (Never)
  Money buried behind my house like a garden (What?)
  All green, my bank account's like a forest
  I Can't Feel My Face is gettin' started (Yeah)
  And Weezy is my accomplice (Ya dig?)
  A Black activist like Sonny Carson
  Stripes of a sergeant, salute me
  And chicks, I get 'em high, higher than turbulences
  White Phantom, lookin' so Fergalicious (Haha)
  I'm from the city of big drugs and murder victims
  It's get rich, go to jail, or be a murder victim
  Ayy! Now all y'all listen
  If you can't take the heat, get out the kitchen [Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
  I feel like a Black Republican,
   
  tote the MAC in the public
  And act so southern and die for my brethren
  Money, money-money, like Money Mackin' Publishing
  One life to live, never ask for a mulligan
  Streets cold, but the heat make me feel covenant
  Been had cake, you late like Ed Sullivan
  Fly like an eagle, but no, I'm not Donovan
  Boy, you better go eat some soup with your mama 'nem
  And my mind is on another continent
  I am real Cash Money, no counterfeit
  I don't parking-lot pimp, I just politick
  But I get all in her mouth like Polident
  New Orleans representer to the inner
  Come from the city where the glitter don't glimmer
  The sun don't shine, and the guns don't sleep
  Wake a nigga ass up like he got somewhere to be
  [Outro: Lil Wayne & 
  Juelz Santana
  ]
  Ya dig?
  Ayy!
  And we wanna let the world know
  This is not a diss song either, people
  Uh-uh, uh-uh
  We don't diss them, we dismiss them
  Ya dig? Haha
  Recognize or step aside
  Yeah!
  Ya dig?
  Hahaha
  We let the music talk
  Drought 3!
   Hahaha
  And by the way
  What?
  It's Santana
  It's Weezy!
  I'm back
  Yeah
  You dudes gotta stand in the mirror backwards cause you can't face yourself
  Assholes
  DipSet for life
  Cash Money
  Cash Money, what up!
  Young Money, Skull Gang
  Mill!