Letras
Drinking chronic iced teas like it's still '99
Pending for my trip to the moon, I think it might be time
My biggest problem I just take it as the slightest sign
Even when I slip and consider him like he's in his prime
They ain't stopping the funk
Heavier than twenty keys in the trunk
I take whatever I want
Only want me for my tongue like the cop in the park
In the position, honestly you find it oftenly
A stoney kid, Scar on my face like Tony did
Master of so many things, I don't know what front to pick
Grew up with nothing, this the only time we're owning it
Prone to hit, targets that's moving with my soul and spit
We're way ahead by light years
Fight fears, hands forever moving like the way you see time is
Leave, no survival skills, I'm okay
Now we all hiding in the garden like we OJ
It's nothing but a thing
Fire to the frying pan, nothing but a sting
Couple street rats turned to a couple of kings
Can't sit at the table if you've got nothing to bring
Brown sweaty hands, calloused, it ain't nothing but a thing
Fire to the frying pan, nothing but a sting
Couple street rats turned to a couple of kings
Can't sit at the table if you've got nothing to bring
Brown sweaty hands, calloused, it ain't nothing but a thing
Sipping funk passion like it's '96
Grew up watching burnouts and stabbings over Nike ticks
I had to window shop while everyone was buying shit
Soon them black 95's had me on some sheisty shit
Now there's Tommy Hilfiger on my torso
There's more where that came from in my wardrobe
I'm smoking North Pole, she's sipping Bordeaux
If she spills that shit on me, that bitch can walk home
Pagans call me Satan, ladies call me bad boy
Hate me but they love me, you should call me sad joy
Might fuck with your life, maybe I'm a bad choice
Came up in the streets like I never had toys
Drive it like I stole it 'cause I probably did
Drive it like the roads are icy, boy got a skid