| Mom’s pissed as she said she’s sick of me piffin'
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| She said whoever sold it to me must’ve been slippin'
|
| So I told her that’s the way they make a living
|
| Mellowing them out and medicating the children
|
| Don’t knock it 'til you try it
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| Can’t puff it 'til you buy it, though
|
| So I guess that’s just how they got me to write a fly with dro
|
| I got zoot and now I’m sailing in the highest boat
|
| Bowl full of green stuff
|
| Looking like an Irish grove (swerve)
|
| Or an Irish clove slashing where the violets drove
|
| Drinking like a pirate so we crashing cause the pilot’s throwed
|
| (?) Sipping 4 Loko
|
| Niggas paper thin, most thinking they hella coarse though
|
| No pretty boy flows but still get more hoes
|
| Smoking on that loud so you can hear the torso
|
| Mom’s scared I’ll get caught and sent to court though
|
| And end up where the crackheads shriek
|
| And squeal for more dope
|
| «It's not the squid, Twist.»
|
| Fuck 'em on the welcome mat
|
| Dipping out until senior year and then it’s like «Welcome back»
|
| To the place where people seldom acting they self
|
| Please get out my face, she in lace
|
| Plus we grow weed in outer space uh
|
| With a space whip stray chicks stay whipped
|
| Masturbate slave tip
|
| Flip tres and skate with no pavement
|
| No flattop, no skate tricks
|
| Stay linked up like Clifford and Satan
|
| Homo-sapiens got nothing to say
|
| Although the wave cray raping 'em
|
| Flavor crossing seas radio frequencies
|
| See sequence these ladies
|
| And they always getting mad
|
| 'Cause we treat they knees shady
|
| Novia, niggas flirting, choke 'em out
|
| Sipping syrup inside of my room and all my clothes are out
|
| 500 miles away the distance could be closer
|
| If it wasn’t one before, we’re riding a roller coaster, now
|
| I’m drinking Juicy Juice
|
| Blowing out that fruity fruit
|
| Different color hairs, bud looking like a rubix cube
|
| When duty calls, usually duty’s loose
|
| Hollerin' at your girl then she holler back «hooty hoot»
|
| Nu Age be the rudest group, circle small loopy loop
|
| Hyper lisp misser like when hoochies hoo
|
| Goofy goo boogers her coochie coo
|
| Sugar so sweet
|
| Plus I wifed her so you know I’m getting sugar for free
|
| Picked up in a Nissan, unzipped the weed
|
| She didn’t need to ask because I know that
|
| She could hit with ease
|
| And even though she whip it, she be gentle with the trees
|
| Like that’s just what it be’s, like beez in the trap
|
| Got a skeeze in that head-lock she’s gonna snap
|
| But she’s looking pretty fly so she’s receiving a dap
|
| She make it clap like
|
| Clap left, clap right
|
| One clap like clap lights
|
| The vision with purple leaves in the wrap, son
|
| Nu Age, Kush Cartel, 18… yeah |