| Oh, we get gone in the breeze
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| Late night smoking the weed
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| Riding sitting low in the seat
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| Just tell me if you’re ready to roll
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| Oh
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| You wanna book the Doctor
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| But you can’t afford me,
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| But if you got the paper call Harry Gordy,
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| He’ll book you for a consultation, I’ll prescribe you medication
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| You’ll be vibing like it’s meditation
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| Feeling wasted, don’t make me have this shatter
|
| Wrapped up round a white girl, put it in the L like it don’t matter
|
| We keep rollin' it fatter and fatter
|
| She hit it harder pullin' like a monster and I don’t mind that shit for starters
|
| Down to the finish, we winning, the flower glistenin'
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| Just listen
|
| We twistin' the fire and higher we getting
|
| Light up this fire then flippin' and sippin'
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| The finest shit, wired and trippin'
|
| We keep climbin', the elevation is too much for you bitches
|
| Come on face it off the paper that was chasin'
|
| Seems outrageous but the grind is contagious
|
| And I got pages and pages of game
|
| And I’m watching all of you fuckin' haters go through your stages
|
| Brown bags full of new blue hundreds
|
| My old bitch hates, damn my new bitch love me
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| Windows down, fresh air feel lovely
|
| Smoke Wax, looks like honey
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| Makes your head feel funny (baller shit)
|
| We spend this money like it never runs out
|
| You broke, it makes me sick
|
| Put this gun in your mouth
|
| I had a plug in the south
|
| Had me reachin' two thou, used to shit
|
| Now trucks, take trips in the drought
|
| Gone in the breeze, ocean view for a week
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| I piss pink champagne on a tropical beach
|
| Sittin' low, in my old school, turn up the beat
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| Light weed, pull a hand full out of the P
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| Turkey bag boys, you ain’t got it like this
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| 5 gran hash play, burns slow as a bitch
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| We burn big everywhere we go
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| Top show, no blow
|
| KK, floatin' out of my nose
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| Let’s roll |