Chillin', inhalin' ganja smoke
Chillin'
Counting mad cream
Chillin', inhalin' ganja smoke
Boss marc nigga
Whatch'y'all know about it
Yeah, turn that shit up for me Al
The whole shit, overall, bump that shit i my hat
(Can we get a moment of silence for this small)
We easily, squeeze heat from a two door
Blue yugo, to put a new hole in your culo
OG kudo, your whole steeze pseudo
10, 000 a key you can’t lose Frankie’s poodle
Boss like Hugo, you know to the tombstone
The uno, flip the Peugot the parasuco
You need a parachute to view those
Chulos with tuxedos with plush luxury vehicles
I proceeded to reach the pinnacle
The beta to the loot [?], speeding in the coupe
Being cool we on a scenic route
Got stripes like an Adidas suit
Drape the lace I’m in a great space
Ate steaks, haters turn away to save face
And break eigths, mayonnaise based, cannons play to waste
We laying waste I’m weighing grams orlando lakes
Handshakes Lambos scrape bones ache
Phones rang come for money like Goldstein
Roll with the team, they supposed to be g
Go at his neck like rosary beads
For groceries and push the 5-double-0 Series
Upholstery smell like Potpourri
But it ain't everything I hoped it'd be
Late nights, fiends with crack pipes stay on it
We run the corners, we the strongest
Laying niggas down and take their belongings
I’m all for it
I’m all for it
Millionaire mannerisms panoramic ceilings
Drug dealings 645 deluxe steering
Step it up to the McLaren and dress it up like a parent
Diamonds are transparent
Donna Karen monogram-wearing model staring
Hollows in the cannon
Ferragamos, white Lottos, Muranos
Bag Milanos like Mcdonalds
The black Aristotle with the bottle
I should write a novel with the gun nozzle that’s like a Bible
Instincts primal pieces on length’s spiral
Think survival rings and Movados Lamborghini Diablos follow
I don’t swallow Moscato I go mano-a-mano with any chicano
And slide in the Alfa Romeo Milano
The Paul Castellano but I’m the moreno model
Hang Piccasso’s in condos bang kangols like bongos
What’s in that case that ain’t a trombone
Ride down the thighbone
Dillinger the size of the iPhone, lay you down like a fossil
Hoes want an eye full of what I got in the drive through
Butter your slut up like a waffle (welcome to the Roco?)
Late nights, fiends with crack pipes stay on it
We run the corners, we the strongest
Laying niggas down and take their belongings
I’m all for it
I’m all for it
Can we get a moment of silence for this small chronic break
