Lyrics
Yeah, yeah
1998, Life's great
Uh
TM, what up?
Taylor Gang business
Gold Daytonas with the navy face
Serenadin' lady with the baby face
Pillow talkin' niggas, they be spewin' hate
Smokin' buddha with my shooter, doin' crazy eights
Last call for alcohol, got your bitch with me
Harlem Nights, shake the dice, watch me get jiggy
Gangster attitude, I don't get friendly
The plug said the price, told him get with me
I'm just celebratin' life, get my drink on
Frank Lucas without the rat and the mink on
All about a dollar, hope you got my message
Funny style niggas never be in my presence
Promote myself, Don King with the palm trees
Get you touched like paws, I got a long reach
She be foreign language speakin' in these satin sheets
If it ain't money, what we talkin' 'bout? I barely speak
Crushed ice, red-eye flights, I'm overnight
All my boys from the hood, you niggas overhyped
Williams, ladies feel him because he dress nice
Cocaine bright white, shades dim the light
Big 'Woods, the Marshalls on me like Thurgood
Got some money stashed in the cut case it don't go good
The highest, that slick talk gon' slip by us
And we ain't worried 'bout what you thinkin', your bitch out
For real
For every user, there is the danger of
A bad trip on the drug (Yeah, yeah)
Where a sensory distortion becomes terrifying
And the acid head may leap from a window or run wildly through traffic
There is a steady flow into San Francisco hospitals
Of young people who have freaked out
Back like a four and a half
And been picked up by the police in a state of desperate terror
Still got more in the stash
Word
Where are my friends?
Do my friends know I'm here?
Where am I?
Where are we?