| It’s that urban farmer shit
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| Start driving slow in a fast car
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| Burn the weed, and zip underneath the sea, the sea
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| Oh, oh, oh
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| I’m drinking two bottles at the same damn time
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| Placing artists and can’t even finish all of it
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| No fruit in my loop, no hoes in my crew
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| No pause in my chain, my car got no roof
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| Them riders with me everywhere and all of them shoot
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| Probably heard some things about me man ain’t all of them true
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| But how we came from nothing to something
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| Niggers eased up in the game, I just jumped in
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| Our 16, selling cds and hustling
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| Had the mother fucker niggas, not the trusting
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| Made the way, so now they’re treating me like royalty
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| And fuck the money, niggas riding over loyalty
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| But when it come to money, I’m all about it so to speak
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| But all for my dogs, I’d do anything for my queen
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| Four eyes rest I’m living the dream
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| Wake up the marble on the floor, heated toilet seats
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| I’m balling hard, you should enjoy the seats
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| I bet this hundred thousand cash is all you believe
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| Then if you work hard, then this is what you could earn,
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| As the kush burns, oh, oh, oh
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| Fresh peek from the hills, red eight inch heels
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| And my new bitch, she brought me up big face bills
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| And my chevrolet dizzy, you all know how it feels
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| To lose a mil two months, shit’s way to real!
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| I saw my mom last night one hell of a dream
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| She told me keep your head up and follow your dream
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| Empty bottles of lean and white cups in the hand
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| Looking half dead zebra, I don’t try to understand
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| I brought louis cause I can, I brought 84 grams
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| And only fuck the bitches that put money in my hand
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| I’m playing hundred dollar hands 24k at the palms
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| And drink all day, long and throw some dank in the bar
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| And my whip is too clean, I bet they’re hating the bar
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| I throw two shots back without chasing it all
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| I let the stones in my pinky ring talk for me, dog
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| And I don’t talk numbers with random cats in the club
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| I throw fifty pack on the back of the truck
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| And get a crazy rush when I get to rap in the mud
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| No fingerprints, bought a fresh package of gloves
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| I’m blowing bud in the club, come fuck with the plug
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| I stay mother fucking bitches, baby give me the cash
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| I’m still haunted by my past, bullets shuddered the glass
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| Them shells on the floor, caught up with 'em fast
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| I’m watching time flying coat tuck tight in this stash
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| My own hand told me slow down for a crash
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| I’m trying to listen, but I’m living like tonight is my last
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| And my own black fist drinking ready to shoot
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| And the coop is so dough, I don’t know what to do
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| And the crib is so big, I can’t get to my room
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| I crashed out on the couch, and my jeans and my shoes
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| Drinking booze in the afternoon, smoking on hash
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| Two hits of the deck but I’m going off racks
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| Cartier frames and my five o ones
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| I’m in the slums with the millionaire, high and drunk
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| They try to stay tight in with the high unplugged
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| I’m like a king with his weed bitch, I am but
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| Six slugs in my 38, I told lil momma go and get our money straight
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| I told Wiz break the weed down and I roll up a shameless
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| And watch fools run away when we finally blaze it
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| I’m so high! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Plug, artist - Berner. Album song Urban Farmer, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп