Oh.

Oh.

Fuck you talk, boy.

Uh-huh.

Y'all don't even know what we do.

We go in and catch...

Shit.

Oh.

Uh.

Huh.

Uh.

I flooded, Shepard.

You wrapped up, Paul.

Fuck a roof while I cover the cars, white like a dove bar.

Park double R, pull your Trump card.

This hawk's large front on the guard you get dumped on You tumble when your number was called

Before the lawn calls you, the summer's all dull Don't worry, Lord, the summer's all yours

The pump's still up under the London fall The horse is imported from Portugal

My songs is like soft porn.

I'm pouring port with song with tall Amazons.

Black Panameras, Tony Montana standards.

Scramblers and scanners in the Porsche.

Grams are soft, we used to scramble on the porch For the phantom cost, I blame it your thoughts Transport snort, so raw this shit snowball

Got polar balls, balls, my rat bone horse.

She like Charlie Baltimore.

We up my dog, check the scoreboard.

The crib, four floors.

You know we in this for the long haul.

That shit I'm on.

Oh, that's that shit I'm on.

Roll the window down and hit them all.

That's that shit I'm on.

That's that shit I'm on.

That's that shit I'm on.

Roll the window down your head on home.

Huh.

Huh.

Yo.

Lime green galado.

I'm like Marlo without the scardo.

You see me?

Rocked the frozen Montega, the rolly sky dweller.

They crashed the Regera on La Cienega.

All my lines is like cinema.

The two-shot derringer's close by.

I feel like I'm John Derringer.

Uh-uh.

All my clothes is Italian cut.

Only fuck with bitches if they down to fuck.

Uh-uh.

My shade's a thousand bucks enough.

I got a Russian plug.

I get you plugged.

Plugged.

Your heart will stop pumping blood.

Uh-uh.

You fly for the hoes in the no-fly zone Cop the R27 Quattro, y'all don't try those We fly fly hoes to the Galapagos in white gold ropes To keep them right, we get them light bulb

I don't.

That's that shit I'm on.

Roll the window down and hit them all.

That's that shit I'm on.

That's that shit I'm on.

That's that shit I'm on.

Roll the window down and hit I'm on.

No more.

Yeah.

Mos, nigga.

Murder Mos.

Yeah.

Money and drugs.

Yeah.

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