Ocean Prime (feat. Boldy James)

Where we at with it?

We tuna melt all of the smelts and fillet the salmons (what else?)
Ocean prime with the Caesar salad but the dressin' Italian
Had to break out the whale scales, took a day to count it (uh-huh)
Plugged out in St. Thomas, from the Virgin to the Cayman Islands
It's yacht life at its best, some flip-flops and my Nautica sweats
Got your bitch on her knees swabbin' the deck
Oyster Perpets, flood the yacht with baguettes
Submariner, what a sea-dweller, this is not a Patek

Pack got sent from overseas with a postcard
Drownin' in sin, life's a beach, need a coast guard
Great Lakes to the coast, activate the alarm
Now we dockin' the boat, big rope with the anchor charms
Sippin' straight Patrón, three-thousand miles away from home
Middle of the ocean, had to cut the navigation on
Nautica Competition compass on my windbreakers
Settin' sail, takin' Dramamine, I get seasick

Papa was a ladies' man, Popeye was a sailor man
Jewelry clearly Canadian, diamonds water, aquarium
Fish scale professional, we got that oil sheen yay
On the river tryna water whip me up a stingray
We got the same guns the Navy got, why panic?
All these loose lips sinkin' ships like the Titanic
On a deserted island, plug tried to leave me stranded
I can't understand his Inglés, he can't understand my Spanish

Big fish in a small pond full of guppies
Like The Bermuda Triangle, I can make you vanish
Burnin' exotic coral reefer with all my blooders
The chain a treasure chest, but my piece hit like watercolors

They don't want us in a yacht



Credits
Writer(s): Alan Maman, James Clay Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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