Ever since I up this morning, I've been on Twist the cap up off my jar, and smoked a cone Took a shower and got gone in the wind, like Wynn I'm the streets of California where we be hustlin and grittin' Gettin' women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin' Wheelin' and dealin' and makin' a killin' trying to hit a Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the building and totin' and toast the lean oh what a feelin' He's a fraudulent, I'm He a simp, he a sap, he I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a hundred I'm a hustler like Flynt Getting money's my habit, I stay in the Papered up like a tablet, my is massive If I in a loser, mayne I'm gonna walk out a winner I ball like a hooper man, up like a printer I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm Mental health, with my conscience cursin' out myself My got a psychologist, neurologist too I'm one of one, I'm not you
Act like you and bobbin' and weavin' In and out of traffic, from the morning to the Trying to get my right, my nigga Stack it to the
Act you know Dippin' and bobbin' and In and out of traffic, from the morning to the Trying to get my right, my nigga it to the ceiling
Drinking and blowing on some bud on a strain you never heard of Exclusive shit, I got it my plugs You my weed on my rug twenty pushups, that's a party foul You can do 'em or do 'em now I allow (who?) Aliens me, that's a no-no They'll try to sneak me and turn my brains adobo see me solo, if you do I'm not Best E-40 with his .45 Glock I'm ADHD, need something to calm my You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper aroma, that's me in the elevator More whips Auto Trader, that's what I got Driveway, looks a car lot My bite is stronger my bark you thought, heart Bitch you full of shit a dog park Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle Weirdo, Why do suckas, be all in a real business? While these sideline niggas be always trying to a hustler's chizznips Flappin' their lizznips like bitches, man they saps be running their mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks That's how a bitch gets Shot in the naps, Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even 'em back (bitch)
Act like you and bobbin and weavin' In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening to get my paper right, my nigga Stack it to the
Act like you and bobbin and weavin' In and out of traffic, from the to the evening Trying to get my paper right, my it to the ceiling
...to the