| Rozay, rozay, wide tops, rozay
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| Cîroc, bud light, wide tops then hoes say
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| '60's, bang it, I don’t shoot, I slang it
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| '30's, pop it, no thanks, just hanging
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| Shrooms keep me up, shrooms keep me up
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| My blunt’s catching on fire, damn it, I see red trucks
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| My eyes may be rolling but that don’t mean I’m holy
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| I’m just outside my body and that’s some shit I ain’t controlling
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| Damn, I think I’m hit, man down, mayday
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| Damn, I’m drunk as hell, I could tell it must be payday
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| Bootleg, Billy Four, '93 octane
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| Smoking on that green crack, sipping liquid cocaine
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| Boom, that’s a atomic, tomorrow I’m gonna vomit
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| Tonight I’m gonna talk shit then hit the streets and run it
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| My date look astonishing, all she pay is homage
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| Told her love me now cause when I come down I plummet
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| We mobbing, wopping, San Diego, we charging
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| 90 all the way to Boston, fuck the laws, we dodging
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| Steve Austin, six milli', dead presidential, hood presidential
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| Hotter than fresh chili, we country, not hillbilly
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| Oh really, oh mighty, Lord have mercy, make this worth it
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| 16 bars of flawless verses, ride the wave, don’t fight it
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| Roll it up then light it, mean mug but I’m excited
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| Keep a bad bitch that go both ways, you know her partner’s invited
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| Vacation, vacation, two bad broads in one location
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| One in the cut, one on deck, I keep 'em in rotation
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| Ovation, outstanding, high as a plane, I’m landing
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| These haters want to see us crash and burn
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| These motherfuckers can’t stand me
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| In Vegas, Miami, Kentucky raised, I’m fucking paid
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| I bust a grape just like your head, spontaneous, no planning
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| Call the law, I dare you, we hit the bitch, you murder
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| Live ain’t fair but don’t blame us, it sucks, nobody ain’t tell you
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| I’m so high I could skydive off the moon
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| Mister Benton here to fuck up your afternoon
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| I got a bag of shrooms and a ho to suck me like a vacuum
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| I’m so off I should rap inside a padded room
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| Fuck you and your faggot goons
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| Badabing, badaboom, pick the fucking scabs off the wound
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| I told that bitch I’m bringing hip hop back
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| That shit ain’t dead, I just took the bitch out the tomb
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| Yeah nigga me and Lara Croft, on the Ukraine dope, call it Gorbachev
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| Any minute, bitch, we gonna orbit off
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| And if the pussy smell bad then my dick go soft
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| Word to my niggas Skinny and Scales
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| We put his body in the ocean where amphibians dwell
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| The grim reaper of rap, I’mma send him to hell
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| And you the type of nigga that’ll stick his dick in a male
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| I am too cool for these lame niggas
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| Hangar 1 all day, never change liquor
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| Get dough, tryna stack my bread up
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| To the point that me and the 1 percent make the same figures
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| Adios when I’m out the bitch coochie
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| Fucking alcoholic like I’m Danny Bonaduce
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| Whoop a niggas ass like
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| Snuggle up with a nigga in the mall like Gucci
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| I put a hole in your kufi
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| Word to Minister Farrakhan and Bruce Lee
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| I write pain on the loose leaf
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| I’m the shit bitch, you ain’t get the news brief
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| 808 put my nigga named Blake
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| I talk to myself cause these niggas all fake
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| Reptilian, I bet these niggas all snakes
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| We gonna get cake
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| Fuck it, let these niggas all hate |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No Idea , by - Nappy Roots. Song from the album The 40 Akerz Project, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп