| I be picking through the stickiest of greenery
|
| 28 grams on my Cuban link
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| Riding shirtless in the TransAm bumpin' Cuban links
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| Cardies on my face, diamonds in my pinkie ring
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| Midwest nigga from the streets to the kitchen sink
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| Grape Swisher Sweets and a box of Middletons
|
| I go straight to my connect, I don’t need a middle man
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| A zip of blue dream and platinum cookies
|
| This is big dog smoke school, we don’t toke with rookies
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| And my jewels give you that 1989 feel
|
| All solid 24k from david and will
|
| 4g out of real on my '76 Seville
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| Ridin' slow through the hills
|
| I’m Beverly, one toke, two tokes
|
| Got me feeling heavenly
|
| Top down riding around chain smokin'
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| Chain pokin' for all a y’all to see
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| And my nigga Gunplay tell em bring some more weed
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Bang) (Aye)
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Mang) (Aye)
|
| I’m chain smokin' in my chain
|
| (I'm smokin' man, I’m smokin' man, I’m smokin')
|
| Niggas try to sound like grime lipe
|
| Say they get high like the one in the bubblegum blue 52
|
| Bel Air at the fair rollin gold shoes
|
| Whole shoes fans fair
|
| Very rare you find an ounce of this shit anywhere
|
| Cuz you incredibly square
|
| Nobody trust you, you actin like the feds
|
| Smokin' to my head
|
| Cuz the one that I wanna pass the doobie to dead
|
| My momma and my girlfriend scared, cuz I be outside
|
| But don’t worry baby, I know how to play it
|
| Watching while I’m blazin', all my jury on
|
| OG in the bomb space station, home basis
|
| From the club to the fool spot
|
| We all racing, we got paper
|
| We all make it fast as we can spend it
|
| Take a new hundred, roll that weed in it
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Bang) (Aye)
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Mang) (Aye)
|
| I’m chain smokin' in my chain
|
| (I'm smokin' man, I’m smokin' man, I’m smokin')
|
| Countin' tokens, chain smokin'
|
| In a seven-trey Chevrolet, everyday chokin'
|
| And the paint like white cocaine
|
| My dog say match when I’m like «okay»
|
| Fresh paper, raw paper
|
| Trippy stick, kush or
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| The color syrup maple
|
| All vapor
|
| To the crib, this bad bitch
|
| I’m gon' take her, then wife her, then break up
|
| Leather seats
|
| My swisher forever sweet
|
| Fresh off probation let’s celebr-eat
|
| They be tardy for the party but I’m never late
|
| Put the fire to the tip 'til I levitate
|
| Four strands, loud as four bands
|
| Tryna hold smoke, she tryna hold hands
|
| This shit fire like I’m rolling up a sun
|
| On a back to back run
|
| Coughing up a lung
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Bang) (Aye)
|
| Chain smokin' in my chain. |
| (Mang) (Aye)
|
| I’m chain smokin' in my chain
|
| (I'm smokin' man, I’m smokin' man, I’m smokin') |