Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All the Smoke, artist - Phresher. Date of issue: 14.02.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
All the Smoke |
| Gucci bag, Fendi bag, she fly |
| Hop in the Jag, two-sixty dash, and bye |
| That’s my bitch so don’t try |
| Designer drip 'til I die |
| Tell a hater suck a dick and die |
| Tell a hater suck a dick and die |
| Nigga want all the smoke |
| Yeah, I want all the smoke |
| You can tell all your folks |
| Somebody tell the priest |
| Might wanna call the Pope |
| I got that bread on me |
| We in the mall with toast |
| So fresh and so clean clean |
| Nigga bought all the soap |
| Gotta feed the fam |
| Take care of all the woes |
| Fuck you and your stylist |
| Already got all the dope |
| First she ain’t want a nigga |
| Now she wan' call the most |
| Now I don’t need your help |
| You can take all your rope |
| I’m running this shit like a principal |
| You running in place on ellipticals |
| My daddy raised me by different rules |
| Show love but don’t get the reciprocal |
| I know that they hating, it’s typical |
| You mad 'cause your life is despicable |
| They praising my words like it’s biblical |
| You can see that I trap, yeah, it’s visible |
| Goddamn, I’m the man |
| I do what I want, you do what you can |
| I’m throwing green, no eggs and ham |
| I’m too fly, don’t wanna land |
| I’m all about making my money expand |
| I don’t understand, you really a fan |
| Middle finger to you and your fam |
| Quit talking 'bout blocks that you never ran |
| All my bitches be tan |
| They suck dick with no hands |
| Make that shit disappear (Abracadabra) |
| I’m talking alakazam (Alakazam) |
| MIA like a flight to the yams |
| If my niggas don’t rob, they scam |
| Got the snipers on top of the van |
| Have you stuck like I’ll be damned |
| I’ll be damned |
| White on whites, skinny jeans and a choker |
| I play my cards right, fuck the poker |
| My Columbian in love with the coca |
| You mad 'cause you broke and getting broker |
| Can’t stop shitting, I need a Pamper |
| Fuck your cosign, I don’t need no stamper |
| I’m from the Bamaz, hotter than Tampa |
| We get it poppin' like grape soda Fanta |
| Hit up Jimmy, he know I’m a vamper |
| Swerving through traffic, watch out for the cameras |
| I’m bustin' these moves but I ain’t a dancer |
| You wasn’t around when I had the Lancer |
| So fuck that shit you selling |
| I’m at the teller, you telling |
| I ain’t with all the yelling |
| Head tap your watermelon |
| If you tryna talk, email us |
| What the fuck you really gon' tell us? |
| We up, you niggas just jealous |
| You old and overzealous |
| (That's why you always fuckin' yellin', you bitch ass nigga) |
| I got the streets going cuckoo |
| Got money out the ass, that’s buku |
| Deuce deuce in the boot, that’s a two-two |
| Your dawg ain’t even got a blues clue |
| You a bitch ass nigga, wear a tutu |
| These niggas too fake, that’s fufu |
| Act up, this shit’ll get crucial |
| Got rock in the cut like boo-boo |
| Versace, Versace, Versace |
| Designer all over my body |
| Your girl wanna ride me, Ducati |
| I’m one of a kind, you copy |
| She give me that neck too sloppy |
| We don’t do 69, that’s Tekashi (Tr3yway) |
| Bitch sayin' that I’m moving wocky |
| So I give it to her A$AP Rocky |
| When I hit it, she fucking yell |
| Cook, clean, and suck me well |
| I’m the type to fuck and tell |
| How could I not fucking tell? |
| Hard dick and nothing else |
| Females be something else |
| I can never be stuck in jail |
| She gon' put up the bail, bitch |
| Gucci bag, Fendi bag, she fly |
| Hop in the Jag, two-sixty dash, and bye |
| That’s my bitch so don’t try |
| Designer drip 'til I die |
| Tell a hater suck a dick and die |
| Tell a hater suck a dick and die |
| Nigga want all the smoke |
| Yeah, I want all the smoke |