Lyrics:
breast from the stress level
On a quest to make money with sober fuck the devil
With this black magic forked-tongue that I amputate
With my mind,
off shotgun, hand on the pump word up
Sharpie for taggin' up my new forcefield
Inside my beard, I got a three-course meal
Inside my pad, i got a tube
with sincerity
The prosperity of the sole proprietor climbed higher
Gin soaked raisins by the fire, while I strum these blues
Duckin' bad news in
took my penicillin and I took my band
To a town made of glitter girls and cocaine friends
Got handed the dream by the age of eighteen
Saw more than most
Anthem-the chorus and the vamping
Sometimes 3-4 hours
But it went like minutes with that feeling in the crowd
Everybody known by they first name
You gon
the swell
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight
White horses rode high as the Devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight
Five weeks out to sea
give me them lips be controlling the stick
Way I'm hitting them gears ain't no way she'll switch
Make her bounce on the flow fore the money can hit
My
you
Maybe it still sting whenever I think about it
But oh look there the phone go ringing again
Now who could it be around 3 am
And I don't even want
Yeah
I ain't going lie, this shit getting easy
Yeah
I'm connected by the 3
Health, Wealth, Royalty
Thought I didn't have the wave
Yet you still tryna
you pull a no show
Smack a hoe and make her blow real nice and slow
Now get on the floor and start making some dough
She's a devil sell her soul be
Yo, yo, yo, check check, one, two
Some hip-hop shit, you know?
Sometimes you gotta get back to the roots
It's February 3rd in 2016
I just saw this
bitches but don't switch the lane
I don't wish no loot in Balmains
Three chains, chains, gang bang
Yeah, my dick it be cleaner than detergent
Louis V.
to peddle, but three times two equal the devil
Blinded by the ice, and the savage way of life
To no vale, niggas get money in small scales
Start smokin, like
stay faded and stoned
Cause when I leave the house I never know if I'm comin home
Bullets got no name it's the dirty game
Wannabe thugs drive by for some
Three months free then after that three ninety nine
Billed quarterly you can cancel at any time
Damage already done subconscious infiltrated
First of all I pray to god I make it on my worse day
Worse days an worse ways this Mike Love you going hear today
Joe on his tenth cry so his mama
tucker
I don't trust 'em, I don't love her
Little brother, don't make me reach out and touch ya
I don't got candy but I'll turn your head to gushers
Inhale the hash inside my lung twice
Take flight (Uh)
Just head towards the sun and make
A right into the night (Right there)
3PM at Lincoln Center (Uh,
it is homie
That's why I make people feel the hook, man
Where would we be without our Grandmas?
A lot of our Grandma's was our Mamas)
Close your eyes
can never, ever, ever make a deal with the devil
Yell Fire, yo, yo, yo
Here we come here we come
Fire, yo, yo, yo, yo
Revolution a comin'
Fire, yo, yo,
mask yeah
Too many niggas wanna be us but can't be
Blue fitted, blue J's, Jim Clancy
Plan's skeet, a modern day Meyer Lansky
Lighters by the pantry
pieces
And make ya death the sweetest
Punch a hole through ya cleavage
By the way how was Jesus
I hope you been baptized
Fucked up and meet ya maker, with
thug by nature
It's all about paper, fuck these haters
Everytime a nigga makes moves, it's major
Pager blowin' up, and nigga my celly off
type of shit that'll make you quick
to get yo ass in
(well what you want playa what you want)
bitch them muthafuckin dividends
I'm that nigga to envy
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