Page 59

This that drinkin' till you spill shit
That sunglasses and advil shit
Gimme vodka with that OJ and I kill shit
Bankin' that I'll get that money Uncle Phil shit
Fresher than a prince though
Can't tell off the intro
Can't tell that I been blowed
Can't tell that I'm puffin' man that outdoor got me indoor
Copy that like 10-4
Stone be on his Urkel and I got his back like Winslow
Focus on that green shit
Marijuana leaves wet
Presidents I need it
She wavey I'm her seaman
Swimmin' in a pool thats full of liquor where the lifeguard
Said she like it doggy style I left her with some bitemarks
Damn where did my light ma
Way the devil hypin' me I swear that I could fight god

I don't give a fuck bitch
I be cookin' fucked up wit my young'ns down in Brunswick
Union with my cousins
Half my homies hustlers, the other half are husbands
You can guess the ones that hit bottle just for one wish
No genie though
You don't see me no
I don't need lebow
D-U then I go
BU BU BU, like Boston
I'm colder than, Steve Austin
You got the juice? Thats awesome
You lemme know, when you off it
I
Am all up on that wine
A barber with my lines
Can't catch up with no Heinz
They happy with their dimes
I'm rollin' on that pine
I transform into Optimus, I'm a mad man in his prime
Wanna fuck with me, need a detour, I should of gave the mother fucker signs
These mumble rappers got gold watches can't read the mother fuckin' times
Lil dumb this, lil dumb that, I tutor you with some rhymes
Turn your book to page 59



Credits
Writer(s): Manan Pandya
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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