Is Lil Wayne’s ‘Dedication 4’ More Funny Or Facepalm?

On Labor Day, Lil Wayne finally released his latest mixtape, Dedication 4, which was originally scheduled to come out in August. It’s the latest installment in his Dedication series, which began in 2005, and likely the last, considering the rapper’s new-found love of skateboarding. So far, reaction to the mixtape has been positive, if not enthusiastic.

New York‘s Zach Dionne called it “kind of fun and sometimes impressive,” and although it’s not one of Wayne’s finest works, there’s something winningly juvenile about it. That teenager-like enthusiasm leads to dozens of punchlines, some of which are hilarious, some of which are facepalm-worthy. Going off of the 10 songs from Dedication 4 that have lyrics up on Rap Genius (the most reliable lyrics website on the Internet), and picking three or four “joke” rhymes from each track, let’s decide if Lil Wayne deserves more Obama Laughing or Picard Facepalm GIFs for his latest effort.

“So Dedicated” (with Birdman)

Some of you n*ggas mad the sport normally happens to be skateboarding
But that gives us four wheels to roll over you n*ggas

She’s so sophisticated
She’ll catch a n*gga nut and then refrigerate it

Tell her how that p*ssy tastes, she been eating pineapples
Throw her back like a quarterback, hit that ass like a linebacker

“Same Damn Tune”

Uh, I’m wildin’ out on my skateboard, she ridin’ d*ck like race cars

Put that d*ck up in her spleen, I shine like Afro Sheen

Got two bitches off Twitter, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum
Single ladies, double cuffs, I’m tighter than a cummerbund

“Cashed Out”

That p*ssy so wet, it turned into a Gremlin
There’s only one me, ain’t no equivalent

I’m a hard head: I pop the cherry
No pussy no rats, no Tom and Jerry

Eat that p*ssy like caviar
She treat that d*ck just like a straw
How you like them apples, Microsoft?

“No Worries” (with Detail)

Hope your barbershop open cause we got hair triggers
Smoke so much that Smokey the Bear have to bear with us

These n*ggas falling off like baggy clothes, I smoke more than a magic show

I would talk about my d*ck, but that sh*t would be a long story

“Mercy” (with Nicki Minaj)

Court side, you in the C Section
I’m with them bloods, you you with the C Section
In Malibu I’m by a sea section
And all these bitches is my sons, yeah C-Section

I threw some bad bitches on my tour bus
I threw some bad bitches on my private jet
If them bitches ain’t f*cking, give them parachutes

It’s Young Money, you bitch you, my weed louder than pimp suits
Your bitch swallow my pimp juice, her p*ssy wetter than swimsuits


Money on the table, guns on the table
Bitch I’m on that syrup, tell that ho leggo my Eggo

Lil’ Tunechi so fly I got arachnophobia

Money talks bitch and mine talks like Robin Leach
That lean got me slow as Lisa Turtle, ask Screech

My girl got a fat cat, I call that sh*t Garfield

“Amen” (with Boo)

It’s Young Money over hoes
Lying to these bitches, they call my d*ck Pinnochio

She get on her knees for this d*ck
Then swallow all of them blessings

Swag so dope you probably think I’m dealing
And I only give head if baby girl swallow children

“Green Ranger” (with J. Cole)

My n*gga say she fast like Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Gold medals if we gave hoes medals

Bitch I’m not old news, I’m more like gold shoes
She eat my whole d*ck, she like Whole Foods

I’m bout to go banana puddin’
You a dyke cause your man a p*ssy
Hit you from the blindside, no Sandra Bullock

“I Don’t Like”

I just licked my thumb and thumbed through that p*ssy like a catalog
All my n*ggas wanna f*ck, and she gonna let us like a salad bar

No lie, I’m f*ckin’ bitches and gettin’ paid
She suck my d*ck for 60 seconds and swallow all my Minute Maid

We are not one and the same
Blood is the game, you run in my veins
I bagged your b*tch then f*ck her
Now come get your b*tch from baggage claim, n*gga!

“No Lie”

I got them yellow Xanax, I slipped on a banana peel

Man I’m sh*tfaced and your bitch facin’, she high too, f*ckin’ right
My number one F-A-N, you know what that mean, F*ck All Night, uh

F*ck your feelings I’m feelin’ me, you want real? That’s real as me
Mask on, trick-or-treat, my sign say “D*ck for free”

Final Count: 18 Facepalms, 12 Obama Laughs (that’s still Wayne’s best ratio in awhile)