conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Fly Out with the following description: The final song on Tha Carter II, “Fly Out” completes a trilogy of songs (“Fly In”, “Carter II”) on the album that all feature the same beat
  This song sums up Lil Wayne’s street and rap credentials as he goes on for two minutes straight about how hard and adept as a rapper he is also repping his hood. There’s no hook, no pauses, just straight flow Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro]
  We here
  I said we here
  The back of Tha Carter, yeah
  The back of Tha Carter
  Two, uh
  Yeah
  This here is
  The end of Tha Carter Two, people
  Hey, yeah
  [Verse]
  I got the game on ball and chain
  I threw the key in the drain, I'm like a key in a drought
  I spent a G on these frames, but my vision is priceless
  Seeing through you niggas like a fuckin' psychic
  Hearing through the grapevine, niggas wanna hate mine
  Say my name and die in the daytime
  You catch my drift, man, you better be Peyton
  Boy, the heat's on, they makin' peace bonds
  I'm in this bitch throwin' up the "17th" sign
  Straight frowns, no daps, strapped three times
  That Tec-11, AK-47, one Beretta
  Ready for whatever, tell them pussy niggas, "Come together"
  Heavy better, nigga, super-soaker wet a nigga
  Six feet under flowers
  , you ain't nothin' but a petal, nigga
  I'm just a little nigga tryin' to be a civil nigga
  Thirty years old, shit, that'll be a given, nigga
  Quit it, Wayne, your Mom is listenin'
  But she ain't really trippin' 'cause the pots is pissed in
  Them niggas trippin' until the shots whistlin'
  Hear them bullets hissin' like a cobra at attention
  I got a bitch and quit callin' women bitches
  As long as she don't worry 'bout the coke in the kitchen
  No preventin' the grind, I gotta get it
  I'm admitted to the game, true player, no quittin'
  There you go shittin' on the way a nigga thinkin'
  Only history I know is Benjamin Franklin
  And since the future ain't promised to no one
  I live every day like this is the sure one
  Trade in the tidal wave, this is the ocean
  Stand in that heat 'til the motherfucking snow come
  And it feels so fuckin' good
  Throw my dope like a rope, let 'em tug and pull
  No hope for the hopeless, rats and roaches
  Running 'cross the porch, in the attic there's a fortune
  Come and get it, automatics in motion
  We bangin' for the bread, nigga, even the molded
  I got my loaf, I got my toast
  Chaperone of the South, I got my coast
  Yeah, and until I die
  I'm the, the-the, the-the, the Best Rapper Alive