Lyrics:
Gardner, the crashin' of James Dean
Bobby Brown influenced by Rick James, it goes
Prince wanted Alexander O'Neal to be Morris Day or Jerome
But Alex was
I feel like James Wiseman, Jameis Winston
How you say you're working? You're in the same position
I feel like Blake Griffin, leave the rim shaking
5
a blunt, or either pass me a joint
I'm the modern day Rick James, yeah that's me
Anything less than the best is blasphemy
So ask for me, when you want
a blunt, or either pass me a joint
I'm the modern day Rick James, yeah that's me
Anything less than the best is blasphemy
So ask for me - when you wanna get
Guys
I would be brief but my Karl Kani's didn't dry
I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps
My smoke bangs like it's freshly picked from
it was supposed to be pulled
Full as a tick, I was stoned like them white boys
Smokin' them white girls, before them blunts, got crunk, chunky asses
gettin smoked by the underdog (Let's go)
We different around here
We come from that desert that hot air
Something you couldn't have got there (Nah)
My
it was supposed to be pulled
Full as a tick, I was stoned like them white boys
Smokin' them white girls, before them blunts, got crunk, chunky asses
style is so fly
James Brown sat me down in a chair
And said, "Snoopy
Don't you ever cut your hair"
I was dazed and amazed
That's why I keep my shit
In
And bright stars dimmed down
By they surroundings like dishes
Young lit and Wiseman
I should play for the pistons
I had to blaze my own path
Take more than
Freaky like Missay and roll the weed up
You would roll three blunts and
Fuck up three blunts
Motherfucka you would fuck up a free lunch
Dawg just keep it
a blunt took a hit and turned the bass up
Hit the gas James flew back from the waist up
Will looked at em said
Damn you look the same
James reached for
tryna get violent
Lets take a Chase and multiply it
On the block like James Wiseman
Paycheck Texaco don't need no stylist
Lets withdraw nigga more
(uh)
I got the pack of Rough Riders in the back of the Pathfinder
You know the epilogue by James Todd Smith
I get swift with the lyrical gift
Hit you
me of that song by James Blunt
(Damn right)
Please don't look me in my eyes
Just to tell me that I'm fucking high
My baby don't be a hater
My plug got
(uh)
I got the pack of Rough Riders in the back of the Pathfinder
You know the epilogue by James Todd Smith
I get swift with the lyrical gift
Hit you
the bando
On Third and James by the fountain where they panhandle
Runnin' from the cops, pullin' scandals, those were my heroes
Pick up the mic, put your
Cuz ion go to parties
cint got no shawty
I'll just kick back an smoke
Blunts into the morning
Smoking blunts into the morning
Smoking blunts into
Cuz
Feel like James Bond
Swag on my fit like I'm James Bond
Hop in the whip like I'm James Bond
Driving the whip like I'm James Bond
Phone on my wrist
was supposed to be pulled
Full as a tick, I was stoned like them white boys
Smokin' them white girls, before them blunts, got crunk, chunky asses
When you need them the most nigga
Hitting blunts
When they know I don't smoke nigga
Keep grinding
Cause I really want my pockets bigger
I'm James Harden
James
To hell with the bitches and the so-called fame (uh-huh)
Strictly biz to hard (kid yeah) as I climb charts
Bustin ass daily as I compose like
kickin' shit with your girlfriend, ay
I just smoked a blunt with your girlfriend, ay
I think that I'm done with your girlfriend, ay
All up in my
blunts got me buzzing like multiple hit singles
Rose from out the pavement assaulted by nature
Now these jokers hate me like I posterize a Laker
Ok Folarin
.jpg/236px-James_Blunt_Tom_Brasil_(25624592027).jpg "James Blunt")
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