Marinatin’

We can marinate, get nice and stack riches

But it's B.Y.O.B., bring your own bud, brew and bitches

Ain't no set trippin', actin' ill and don't steal

For real, for real

I woke up in my Tommy Hilfiger boxers at 10

From a knock at the door, but why they at my door for?

Oh, my peeps they got a half gallon, smilin'

My talents total ten, one empty round from puttin' it down

But now, my day is startin' off Coca-Cola and Rémy Martin

Some of the homies from L.A. and CR's

And wanna throw a private party today

Threw on some Gardere and my Rolex link

Dressed to kill like Bernard Goetz

My squad flex like Lee Haney

So it's best I keeps myself on house arrest

Cause never know maybe, they might wind up in 429 Bouche locked away

Plus, can't keep the booty calls waitin', I marinate

Dialled up some mice-head to see what's crackin' tonight

She said she just broke up with her man

And since she free like Mandela

She bringin' a box of Philly Pantellas

Acapella, I got game like Lou Piniella

Make sure to tell her don't bring no fellas, Cherella

Girl, you can braid the tweed, and then

You can show me how to do the pepper seed, agreed

Cause we get down like this on the regular

Loungin', watchin' bootleg tapes, shootin' jokes

Your choice of imported smokes

Craps and cee-lo on the patio for more chips than bingo

Chips like the MGM casino

Just make sure your homegirls is single so it's poppin'

Cause ain't nothin' worse than fifth wheels that's cock blockin'

And knockin' while I'm knockin', talkin' 'bout she ret to go

I want some of your brown sugar while I bump D'Angelo

No special holiday, but sometimes

Just being alive is a reason for celebratin'

So we marinate

I get around like Dolby Pro Logic

But runnin' them streets too much get

Fools hated, incarcerated or terminated

At the house we safely intoxicated

Nonoxynol-9 lubricated playin' questions, everybody faded

And now, we got the ladies undressin' like 1st King strippers

Bouncin' on niggas' balls like the L.A. Clippers

The phone rang, my little shorty said, "What you up to, boo?"

Nothin', just chillin' like Bruh-Man or Martin do

See, only when I'm tipsy when my words start slurrin'

Do I get caught tellin' lies like Mark Fuhrman

So I'll call you later, drink was low

Went to the stash, put out the XO

The TU's is down for whatever

Let's run more trains than the Metrorail

But y'all gotta be out by two

I'm gettin' sleepy, and plus my boo is comin' through

So let the front door hit you where RuPaul probably might

And everybody askin' what's up for tomorrow night