| Just tell me how high you are
|
| I don’t know, what are you giving me?
|
| Just tell- just tell everyone how high you are
|
| No, I can’t talk, I’m not telling anyone
|
| I’m not telling anyone
|
| Can you please-
|
| Are you recording me?
|
| No I’m not, can you just-
|
| You are lying
|
| Can you please tell them?
|
| I-I can’t describe it, I am so high
|
| That’s it, it’s like I’m tripping
|
| Yeah, Yeah
|
| Yeah, Yeah (Wolfpack)
|
| Puerto Rican Air Force One’s at the wedding (Uh)
|
| I’m only speaking truth
|
| Uh, I might open up for Bruce (I might)
|
| My own horn I don’t really mean to toot
|
| Sign big deals with yarmulkes on and suede gloves
|
| It’s safe to say your boy done came up
|
| Too much lobster on the plane, the plane won’t stay up (Uh)
|
| Bitch, I’m butt naked, laid up
|
| Yo, what the fuck?
|
| (Wolfpack)
|
| This dick’ll make an R&B chick write a song
|
| About the rain when it falls and the pain that it causes (Uh, uh)
|
| And how she always wakin' up alone?
|
| And now Bronson gotta call Tyrone (Gotta call Tyrone)
|
| Fuck that, I’m tryna blow smoke towards the moon
|
| Till my mind start racing like zoom
|
| I’m hotter than when Bow Wow dropped in the summer
|
| Girls scream and I hop into the Hummer like
|
| Uh, I’m a teenage heartthrob
|
| You smoke little blunts like Kevin Hart’s arms (Uh)
|
| My bloodline predate Aardvark and large shark (Uh)
|
| And cookin' flesh off of charred bark (Aaah!)
|
| (Wolfpack, wolfpack)
|
| I shot dope before I wrote this
|
| Sniffed coke and did aerobics by the ocean
|
| This is Blue Chips 7 not Usher (Uh)
|
| Big muskets get squeezed like mustard
|
| And motherfuckers flee off in the Nissan (Uhh)
|
| They say that life is like a see-saw
|
| I roll solo, why I got these extra seats for?
|
| Hit eject, watch him free fall (Aaaaaah!)
|
| Better use both fucking feet, dog!
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Bam Bam, Blue Chips 7
|
| My Blue Heaven |