Lyrics All the Smoke - Phresher

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