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(Yo
Wassup son,
Wassup, whats really good,
Whats really good right now,
Hahahahaa)
I'm billin' at the club
With a bottle and a bag
Fresh to death head to toe
With that average Joe swag
Lookin' Walmart sheik
With the exception of the sneakers
Got my own shit bumpin'
Through them Clarion speakers
Got burn one at the wheel
With the pistol on tug
Got Demun an Crisis with me
Y'all don't wanna press your luck
I got the windows down
Hoody weather with a breeze
That's four mother fuckers
Eight pockets full of cheese
I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by la la la la la la
This shit cut to the bone
Criminals sing this song (Hey!)
What's real can you not feel
The way we murder and kill
Open minds up and let guts spill
Never done on this level until
Now you might win a battle or a freestyle
But that's t-ball and I'm on a million miles
You got a sling shot I got armor and a shield
And a lot of hundred-dollar bills
And a hot model cooking all of my meals
New York lawyer closin' my deals
Nothing on the table
Every cent banked
Dipped head to toe and my shit don't stank
Great white shark in a fish tank
Gennie in your wish list
What your bitch thank?
What your bitch thank?
I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by
I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
Jimmy Ty, Daniel Ellsworth, Alexander Perkins
Got 'em all slurpin' the gherkin, murkin' and twerkin'
I'm lookin', its workin'
I'm arrogant, American, the liquor drinking derelict
They wonder where I get the nerve
Nowhere in particular
Bitches say I'm immature
Then they want a signature
Boyfriend trippin', hematomas, ligatures
Your girl still got a pretty face
But look at yours
I could take your hooker sure
I could also make a coffee table book of turds
I'm a 6-pack, and get back 12 to raise hell and a case,
If you don't get the fuck out my face...
I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by
I got a whole bottle of Stolichnaya
A fresh bag of fire from my supplier
And I think I just saw cloud 9
Hundred and ninety-nine fly by la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
We been poppin' collars
Like a bullet through the knot in a necktie
Headline act with a 10 o'clock set time
4 o'clock load in label on the phone
"Yo we need a record from you Danny"
Gotta meet the deadline
Another night writing for the sunlight bedtime
Purple circles, around my red eyes
Elevate the mind state
Try to relax with a bottle and a sack
And they call this big time
Chiefin' like a chief in a wigwam
Inhale deep this shit will make ya wig warm
Crysis Jones on the left
Ty, "what the hook gonna be?"
I was thinking something like the weed hook
Don't mean, yeahhhh...
Maybe not
Take a shot of vodka
Pack another bowl up
Talk a little caca
(Talk a little caca)
Smoke until we cockeyed
(Smoke until we cockeyed)
Alright...
I'm billin' at the club
With a bottle and a bag
Fresh to death head to toe
With that average Joe swag
Lookin' Walmart sheik
With the exception of the sneakers
Got my own shit bumpin'
Through them Clarion speakers
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers...)
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers...)
(Speakers, speakers, speakers, speakers...)
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