| Rargh
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| The Octagon
|
| Remember that André 3000 track? |
| (Chill, Chill)
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| «Hey Ya» or some shit, that was the shit back in the day
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| We should use it for the chorus, maybe (420 Fam)
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| Try this right here, check
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| (Hey ya) «230 pounds of marijuana…»
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| (Hey ya) «Along with more than 150,000 dollars in cash…»
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| (Hey ya) «But guess what, that’s not all. |
| Also, take a look…»
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| (Hey ya) «A 55,000 dollar watch»
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| Rargh, hey ya, I’m an outcast and I spray bar
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| I was six feet deep with the roses and flows
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| I was gettin' head stoned like graveyards
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| I’m offside with the ball in a box and all my brahs ill like Neymar
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| Not Yoda, but the girl bent back like yoga, the drug’s like poker
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| Funky Friday and pills on a rainbow
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| Psychodrama, but I’m not Dave, though
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| Quavo gettin' 'em high like all night
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| With a freak little thing on the right from Barbados
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| Chill the fuck out, peso, Snoop Dogg lifestyle then I lay low
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| Rap shit is a war of the words
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| And my words are gods of the war like Kratos
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| I’m in a blacked out Mazda, bad bitch that I met on Insta
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| In the club with a bottle of bub'
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| So yeah, I might go 50 Cent, I might pimp her
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| Might chop ya trees and yell timber
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| I might just swipe your shit, but not Tinder
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| I might say babysit, I might kid ya
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| I might Will Smith your bitch and then switch up
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| Facts, still got bud, no love for the Jack’s
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| Still blow sesh from the front to the back
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| With the fam till the death and the bud that I pack
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| Money in a wraps both backflip, got 55 grand in the mattress
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| Can’t catch this, I just got three birds in a row
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| And I called it a hat-trick
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| (Hey ya) «230 pounds of marijuana…»
|
| (Hey ya) «Along with more than 150,000 dollars in cash…»
|
| (Hey ya) «But guess what, that’s not all. |
| Also, take a look…»
|
| (Hey ya) «A 55,000 dollar watch»
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| I said, «Quick figures pay less
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| Quick pay for the six-figure pay cheque»
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| Zip Pay, then I strip on my babe
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| Dress fine 'cause I got a little drugs and I take less
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| We just do a little more then we say less
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| Money doubles on the budget 'till the day stress
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| Wanna fuck, she don’t know my name yet
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| That’s just how the fame gets, word
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| Dot ball, got ‘em in a mixed batch
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| Have a long one shot, might six that
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| Run out on a war like Steve and I hit that
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| Hit 'em with a Cro Cop kick back
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| Coke for coke till I comatose
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| Then go flow for flow while I go for throats
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| And I might go for broke till I overdose
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| And brudda catch my drift like Tokyo
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| I’m in a blacked out van with a bad little queen
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| In the back that I dust off
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| Jake Tyler, the boy back down in the background
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| Like I’m at a packed out bus stop
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| One-two, I kick it like kung fu
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| Come through with a one-point-two in the glovebox
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| Back down, put the track down, let it slap now, wanna chat?
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| Your whole crew can fuck off
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| Rargh, fuck off, fucked your girl twice, get bread then duck off
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| Why you on my dick then suck off?
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| Said it once more, brah, fuck off
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| Rargh, fuck off, fucked your girl twice, get bread then duck off
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| Why you on my dick then suck off?
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| I said it once more, brah, fuck off
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| (Hey ya) I told you cunts, bro
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| (Hey ya) I said it before, man
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| I don’t know how many times I gotta say it, fuck off, man
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| (Hey ya) I’m livin' my best life, I’m good, bro
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| Money good, get yours
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| (Hey ya) You know what? |
| Fuck it
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| Hey ya
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| Hey ya, hey |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 230 Pounds , by - Chillinit. Song from the album The Octagon, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп