Letras
Pick up the call
Stare at the light
Fuck if its bright right, yeah
Stare at the light
I'm harder than hard, ya dig?
Come ride the pipe
Pick up the phone, okay
It's the cream of the crop
These modern style tones in midst of rocks and Art Deco
Times New, in midst of Comics, Zeroes and one frescoes
idols come with skeletons, they forty livin' like they twenty
Talkin' to a teen
Imma protect my daughter with an army
These days I ain't sayin' something, for nothing
These days Ideas not sparkin' just blunts, trees, and killings
I need a jeweler who got me,
I need me a iced out cross with diamonds and i wanna spin it
I wanna spin it
I need me a fan who gon' rock with me
If i'm the painter, I need me a party to blast for me
These days i'm a hypocrite that turns to salt for seein'
God bless the architect, even through the blasphemy
The devil wants a part of me
Motherfucker depart from me
Is it the brain rot, jewelry or dinero
Is God the brutalist for putting a stone in the middle?
Blood flows to a brick
Where the heart go?
Maybe I turned to a pimp for molding her how I like her
Honda Prelude, Murcielago
If it wasn't within her, would she ride though?
Born sinners livid in a Silverado
The boy's a winner, yeah, El Dorado
Pick up the call
Stare at the light
Fuck if its bright right, yeah
Stare at the light
I'm harder than hard, ya dig?
Come ride the pipe
Pick up the phone, okay
It's the cream of the crop
These Air Force 1s with baggy pants, they Nylon,
These people faces melt when you bring up the chains, the teflon
Y'all be droolin' over cheeks, now the blunt gone
I hate the way the chairs never go with the drapes, am I wrong?
It's the mixing swoosh with Adidas to me
Aw hell nah