And I’ll give you
something somethin
Pick a number and wait for it
Those other bitches on some dumb shit
Fourth level swag is where these men kick it
If you got rhythm put forth your own bit
Show us your style and screw the crits
Lucid dreams only mean, when you’re meaning it
Gotta surrender to the music when that beat hits
Wake up to a sky fulla rainbows
You know that green stuff in your pocket glows
Other people sweep you off your feet
with the way they flow
But real men know it’s the story yo
Music droppin and the girls hips poppin
And you know this bowl aint stopping
We got enuff mojo to keep our flight solo
For a year man
Pop something in the oven not the fryin pan
Bake me some brownies and I’ll love you man
Meanwhile blunts full throttle
We stick it to the government
And give the rebels a hand
No comments:
Post a Comment