No Cigar (feat. Andre 3000)

Monty P, Stone junior, nothin' but the best (The best)
We top-shelf, who want smoke? We take your chest
Your neck, your arms, your head, yeah, all that
Man, don't think you untouchable in the land of Jack
Brrat, brrat, all them sticks in the heat of the night
Yellow tape and white chalk be a familiar sight
Your dirty laundry broadcast on the evening news
I try to tell 'em but wisdom is too hot for a fool
I'm from the school of excellence, master of my craft
All solid, no crumbs, hand-crafted by hand
I still don't dance, don't bite my tongue for nobody
You could either fly away or come do somethin' bout it (Uh)

Who want smoke? Who want smoke?
Who want smoke? Who want smoke?
No cigar, no cigar
They close as fuck, but no cigar
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
No cigar (What?), no cigar (What?)
They close as fuck (Yeah), but no cigar

Uh, I smoke Perdomo, hypnotic Cohiba
A leader, a teacher, a boss, a scholar, don't father
Get fetti, the cheddar, dinero, the fella lookin' better
The [?], the Chevy is yellow, my mood is mellow
My waves, they hella, some teacher said music and use it
To be a lil' business of witness to greatness
No patience, I'm ready to service, people
My lyrics are lethal, I shit on you, fecal
I'm startin' the sequel, I'm threadin' the needle, I'm juicin' like Beetle
You're closer than ever (Ayy), you're callin' the reverend (Ayy)
You praise to the Heavens (Ayy), to give 'em a lesson (Ayy)
You give a confession (Ayy), receivin' the blessin' (Ayy)
We live in the mansions (Ayy), yeah, uh

Who want smoke? (Ayy) Who want smoke?
Who want smoke? Who want smoke? (You know it)
No cigar (No cigar), no cigar
They close as fuck, but no cigar
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
No cigar (What?), no cigar (What?)
They close as fuck (Yeah), but no cigar

Three hard like a saw, nothin' goodie but Mob
Under the steps and dirt, there was a dungeon, no floor
Out of school or off of work or smoke a blunt and go fart
Nigga rollin' up the roaches when the shit got short
Catch your bitch on her porch, walk her back to her car
Pat the pussy, slap her tail and tell her, "See you tomorrow"
Pocket book that match nails, Chanel, but needed a bra
I could tell that bitch was Hell, she prolly needed a father
For the record, me too, what the Hell could we do?
Let your older partners raise ya' and watch 'em do what they do
Now I pull over just in case I gotta snooze when I cru'
Now I know we all some babies, they was just learnin' too
I'm Hula Hoopin', Double Dutchin', kickballin' that hoe
New maneuver, no discussion, fuck 'em, all of them hoes
What's a dungeon? A home, home for misfits
Sleepin' on the floor then wake up when you smell somethin' lit (Yeah)

Who want smoke? Who want smoke?
Who want smoke? Who want smoke?
No cigar, no cigar
They close as fuck, but no cigar
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
Who want smoke? (Who?) Who want smoke? (Who?)
No cigar (What?), no cigar (What?)
They close as fuck (Yeah), but no cigar



Credits
Writer(s): Rico R. Wade, Raymon Ameer Murray, Cameron F. Gipp, Andre Benjamin, Willie Edward Knighton, Robert Terrance Barnett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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