| La-La-la-la
|
| Me and Rich in here at 2 o’clock in the morning
|
| More Saturday Night Tunes
|
| You ironing your motherfuckin' leather sweat pants for the club
|
| Outside like Tommy Buns
|
| Four in the morning
|
| I’m about to blow the horn
|
| Hurry ya ass up homeboy — it’s on
|
| Can’t get passed up
|
| Are you cashed up enough to weather the storm?
|
| That shit coming I know
|
| That shit coming for sure
|
| Some look it right in the eye
|
| Some niggas run for the door
|
| I’m prepaired so I’ma stay right here
|
| Front porch OG rocking chair
|
| Putting that fucking doja in the air
|
| Those cannot compare
|
| Your flow’s not rare
|
| Run of the mill
|
| You can find that anywhere
|
| But this shit right here
|
| Get in your ears quickly
|
| Fiending you out
|
| You’ll be customer of the year now
|
| Bitches want to date
|
| Cause her man always hate
|
| Saying my name everyday
|
| Now she wanna know how it taste
|
| I’m in here rapping making up these tapes
|
| Like I be wrapping up the weight
|
| Razor blade scrape lines
|
| Clean the whole plate
|
| Ma' say your grace
|
| Calling them hoes bitches
|
| And smoking my weed up
|
| Ten toes down I’ma stay g’d up
|
| Calling them hoes bitches
|
| And smoking my weed up
|
| Throw the set
|
| Whenever you see us
|
| Calling them hoes bitches
|
| And smoking my weed up
|
| Ten toes down I’ma stay g’d up
|
| Calling them hoes bitches
|
| And smoking my weed up
|
| Miami Vice on mute
|
| Weed lit, killer beats on loop
|
| Repeat this until I step into the booth
|
| Laying something new
|
| And then I’m in that old school
|
| When the session through
|
| From the grower, directly to you
|
| I got so many styles it be hard to choose
|
| Rather to just lay 'em
|
| Or just save 'em for later
|
| Cause niggas be waiting
|
| For a chance to steal your sound
|
| And then pretend to be the originator
|
| Fake it till they make it
|
| Bogus jewelry — fool, you just gold plated
|
| My Chevy heavy, so is my bracelet
|
| Not complacent, rather impatient
|
| Can’t be waiting on that paper
|
| I’ma have to chase it
|
| Though it’s mad evasive
|
| Spin move, juke and shaking
|
| Choosing to get in this hustle
|
| Could make you or break you
|
| Or just make you crazy
|
| Or make you major
|
| And take you places
|
| It’s all on how you play it
|
| Just how any game is |