Lyrics:
Way too sober where the coca
I don't mix my liq with soda
Smoking green just like I'm Yoda
Yeah bitch mi vida loca
Alright where do I begin
First
in us, and it's up to us to lift each other up
Don't let them make you feel like you're not good enough
So we're bringing forth a mandate
To treat
kits
Whether cassette radio or CD bits
Mix tapes from the best going on and on
Throughout the city grounds to suburban lawns
Man, we don't play,
your soul
Be careful, nigga, you better be humble
We living whatever we come for
Who do you think you're talking to? (woo, woo)
I'm not the one you
the trunk
Nah you're good you're good
Oh me
Yeah no i'm good pfft
I'm real good
Imma need like two hundred thousand
I go get a check and then I'm bouncin'
of by management
You need to call of spend time with your family
They ain't having it regret bleeding through bandages
Not saying that you gotta go M.I.A
Five boys come on
Ayo talk to Bugsy, what we driving? Let me know what's good man
Beemer or the Benz man
I'm just getting upset fam
What's going
of their music
And song contains themes of self harm, & suicide
If you are affected by anything you have heard during the duration of this song
Please engage
[Chorus]
Pink cookies in a plastic bag, getting crushed by buildings
Pink cookies in a plastic bag, getting crushed by buildings
I'll take 30
come/
CHORUS
When you’re in my system//you’re making me high/
Your vision is the key//to getting inside/
My mission is relief//it’s getting me by/
It
the 21st. century schizoid human being...
If by chance they encounter a good musical idea, no matter how small. they will stop and smell the flowers that come
and you
Lovin' all the beautiful work we've done cara mia
And it's barely July
If we keep on boppin' until Labor Day
Li'l miz Abbie bye bye
on
Let's begin in the mix, of a Clair player
You're liable to get your wigs split and dumped in a ditch bitch
Cause them thugs, sendin' them slugs
Leavin'
clever, yo, I never go out like a bisquit
Don't try to take my spot and not be legit
Try to vic my shoes and your feet won't fit
You're good, but
you're dead
Homie
It's your mother, your uncle and brother
If God was a Loc
He'd probably had one comin'
Damn, that's fucked up, I guess it is
When you
You ever had a dream
Where you were the king
Would you pursue it by any means
Even if something is holding you back
Let me tell you about that
Yeah
, I'm good, when bad, I'm better
You want it? whatever - I'll be the stormy weather
Rain comin down, so weatherproof you're leather
Jacket, a nigga with
The act of makin love...is...
[REFRAIN]
pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by buildings
pink cookies in a plastic bag, gettin crushed by
pussy (come here daddy)
(Who she talkin' to?) (Ooh, you look so good)
Flossy P, slap this bitch
(Wait, wait, bitch, back up)
She was just a groupie
commit domestic violence
Don't call police, no, bitch, don't try it
'Cause by the time that they get here, bitch, you're gonna be lifeless
Dead bodies
(yeah)
One cop said, Sir, you're under arrest (ha)
I laughed in jest, assumed he was just showing off for his cop friends
Opened some Chex Mix
"Sir,
Uh yea
I said, “Oh mama Mia”
I needa another quarter pieca from the pizzeria
Or maybe gasolina feeding the feeling of feeling needed cuz
No amount
You saw the sunshine
And now you're sure
And now you're sure
Uh huh
Remeniscin' them days
When I was good wit' a pair of Girbauds
Boom box, bumpin'
on
Buy it, break it, roll it, light it, smoke it, inhale it
Write it, record it, mix it, master it, press it up, unveil it
Feel like I've been waiting
.jpg/225px-Diplo_2014_Press_Photo_(cropped).jpg "Diplo")
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