Misty
I be smoking Kush in a all white castle
Fine ass bitch but she give me a hassle
My music get weird but I'm getting weirder
But I'm still a G so it wouldn't make a different
See I'm the instructor and these niggas just listen
Shouts out to 8-Ball bitch its Space Age Pimpin'
On the three point clutch bitch I'm Scottie Pippen
Listen to the sounds as you hear the water drippin'
Feeling like the moon man
Five blunts in my hand
Wit' a whole pint of lean fresh from Actavis brand
Niggas try to take my style but they ain't brutal, damn
Chris fucking Travis smoking weed sent from Amsterdam
Fuck is you talking 'bout bitch I go fuckin' HAM,
just to get my bread and I don't need no fuckin' jam
But I be taxing call me Uncle Sam,
for my fam or Mr. "Roll-up a Blunt out of Three Grams"
Still 'bout the city that I'm from, I'm not leaving
But still I gotta watch my fuckin' back from these demons
A I be on the creep cause you know a nigga chief off
that strong ass kush that will make your clothes reek
I be on another level I think I done reached my peak
If I'm hungry as fuck I get high and eat a beat
I got plenty different flows and they all so unique
I got 20 different hoes and they all fine as me, huh
Smoking on this weed and it got me high as fuck
Nah, I ain't paranoid but my brain on a rush
Goddamn, where I'm at?
Goddamn, what the fuck? (sigh)
Roll another blunt, bitch I don't give a fuck
Watch me smoke
And watch me choke
Fine ass bitch but she give me a hassle
My music get weird but I'm getting weirder
But I'm still a G so it wouldn't make a different
See I'm the instructor and these niggas just listen
Shouts out to 8-Ball bitch its Space Age Pimpin'
On the three point clutch bitch I'm Scottie Pippen
Listen to the sounds as you hear the water drippin'
Feeling like the moon man
Five blunts in my hand
Wit' a whole pint of lean fresh from Actavis brand
Niggas try to take my style but they ain't brutal, damn
Chris fucking Travis smoking weed sent from Amsterdam
Fuck is you talking 'bout bitch I go fuckin' HAM,
just to get my bread and I don't need no fuckin' jam
But I be taxing call me Uncle Sam,
for my fam or Mr. "Roll-up a Blunt out of Three Grams"
Still 'bout the city that I'm from, I'm not leaving
But still I gotta watch my fuckin' back from these demons
A I be on the creep cause you know a nigga chief off
that strong ass kush that will make your clothes reek
I be on another level I think I done reached my peak
If I'm hungry as fuck I get high and eat a beat
I got plenty different flows and they all so unique
I got 20 different hoes and they all fine as me, huh
Smoking on this weed and it got me high as fuck
Nah, I ain't paranoid but my brain on a rush
Goddamn, where I'm at?
Goddamn, what the fuck? (sigh)
Roll another blunt, bitch I don't give a fuck
Watch me smoke
And watch me choke
Credits
Writer(s): Erroll Garner, Johnny Burke
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.