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Yea.. yea
Smoking a escubano, guzzle my second bottle
Hope I don’t catch a homo (homicide)
Grossing our net
Simultaneously making me climb higher, heinous crimes behind me
Search but can’t find me
Fuck sadness
Had this been you havin’ this lavish
Habitual happiness at me you wouldn’t look backwards
You would have sex on condominium roof decks
So anyone move next
I’ll hit you with two techs
Rocking Roberto Cavalli no shirt on convertible Mazy
My Columbiana mommy ridin beside me
Every tat mean something, that’s my word on my body
I’ll have to lean something wit that Mossberg shotty
My niggas is ignant, put lead in yo pigment
Just cuz y’all was mad at all the years I was getting it
In 97 the six
98 the Bentley
Now it’s the Ghost Phantom
And ya’ll can’t stand ‘em but…
