Lyrics Cookout - Wiz Khalifa, Chevy Woods

Cookout

And that’s a round of applause
Ladies and gentleman
I’d like to shout out Taylor Gang
And shout out my car keys
It’s big business bitch
I’m just chilling, loc’ing, sipping, smoking
Like a G should
On my fly old school shit: Clint Eastwood
Tell a friend, bring a friend, its a Cookout
We gon' drink, we gon' smoke
We gon' turn this bitch out
Roll another doobie
Only papers, baby fill it with that ooh-wee
Let a G roll the OG, then roll one for OG
Yeah that’s the homie
Zig-zags baby no leaf
Acting like you know the Wizzle man, that’s my homie
If that’s gin nigga, pour me
Sippin' slow, she go down slow like a slow leaf
Cop the car from the dealer
Pulled off thumbs up to the homie Mac Miller
King Kong, young gorilla
My cup overfloweth, I’mma rhyme spilla'
All day Mr. Count It Up
I lost count I don’t ever think its enough
I get it 100 after 100
So everything you did with that money I done done it
Gone!
Drop top, leather seats
Tape deck playing, she a freak
It ain’t about money, it ain’t my language
Don’t know my name in memory of Rick James, Bitch!
You know that I’m a Taylor tho?
So to the cops Cartoon George «which way’d he go?»
Shit, nigga I did blew 80 O’s, the 80′s O’s the 80 mo'
In my lifetime, No Jay Z
Just OZ’s, roll something, smoke weed
Drink liquor, double cups
No lean in it, fuck is up
I tell her «bitch, I be airborne»
Then in a minute in my lap where her hair gone
She Keep it G, she love a nigga
I tell her chill, I’m fucking witcha
I’ma roll one up, as you should
We gon' smoke old school joints: Clint Eastwood
I’m gon roll one up, as you should
We gon' smoke old school joints: Clint Eastwood
Uh, best board the time machine, bitch
You can write a movie off the shit I done seen
Rolling them Khalifa papers up with all kinds of green
Smoking while I’m rapping nigga, don’t get no time between
Yeah I came up in the game, it took time you see
I’ll show you how to get your money up and get high as me
Talk to my Dad the other day said he proud of me
My girl says she found 30 racks when she found my jeans
I told her blow it, like her nose was running
What you hatin' me for fam, get some hoes or something
Niggas know me for twisting a whole ki
Fuck around I might charge you a O or something
I’m a let you hold it and you owe us nothing
Its the shit I be smoking so be careful how you roll it when you cuffin'
Got a projecter in the crib like nino
Niggas ain’t gotta talk about it, we know