| Check
|
| A-Trak, what up?
|
| Drop a deuce in that soda
|
| Tell your ho to come over
|
| Coming straight out that Motor
|
| Sipping oil never sober
|
| Bring backwoods of that OG, we smoking them back-to-back
|
| Molly looking like sugar, so you know that I’m dipping it
|
| See my jeans by the stack, and my shoes cost 'bout half of that
|
| Let’s not talk 'bout the shirt
|
| She can’t even pronounce that
|
| Ghetto nigga on high end
|
| My theory is low end
|
| My tribe on a quest, put that money in motion
|
| So bitch, we smoking and drink
|
| Drinking and smoke
|
| My ho got tats on her face
|
| Sell me them cookies from Oakland
|
| But not the kind that you eat, stuff it in Swisher Sweets
|
| And we smoke blunt after blunt after blunt after blunt after blunt after blunt
|
| after blunt
|
| I don’t know what y’all be thinking
|
| Spaced-out, rolling up that stinky
|
| Big big blunts the size of pinkies
|
| Pour one out, we still be leaning
|
| I don’t know what y’all be thinking
|
| Smoking, drinking, drinking, smoking
|
| In that order, we slow motion
|
| 'Til it’s over, never stop
|
| Smoking and drink
|
| Drinking and smoke
|
| We be smoking and drink
|
| Drinking and smoke
|
| Gotta get away, to escape, I smoke this kush to the face
|
| Gotta get away, get away, I think I need the brain
|
| Please oh Lord, oh Lord, I need your help again
|
| Took too many pills, and I think I hear my heart beating
|
| Taking over those chances, honey backwoods stuffed with that grammy
|
| My ho blowing on that potter, mixing liquor with them xannies
|
| Stress party, get away, hope that these problems just go away
|
| Right there in my face, I ignore it every day |