Haha

I act a foolie, fucking schoolies, living movie
I up the movement, I got the pullies
She wanna dance like rubies that I've never seen
I'm gonna cut the 2-liter, push up my meter
It's been like fucking two weeks, no talking to me
Now you want all of these things, the fuck do you mean
No matter what, I'm always RB, I do what I please
Still fucking up whatever I need to get what I need
They thought I was turning a leave and getting soft, please
I told 'em lay off, do what I want, it pay off
They far off my radar, this that gas no Qatar
And my bags on A-rod, gotta get them weighed up
When it's fly time, I'm only like 5'9"
Still stack up to my mind, and I've been so high high
How the hell I ain't nod off, I'm so more than 99
Smoking raws, raw dog, I know I'm too high high

Haha, haha, what they on
Haha, haha, where they going
Haha, haha, the fuck they know
Haha, haha

Haha, hakuna matata off this rasta
All I hear "blah blah", cover my ears "la la"
She like rada rada, it's so nonstop with the same talk, oh my gosh
This ain't no car lot, but I got some drive, shit
I had got a lot, and ain't have to try switching
I don't type a lot, man this shit just my business
Not on time a lot, I can't give you five minutes
There's gotta be endings to all of my sinning
The way they say it is always offending
'Cuz no one's admitting influences that are only from Record Boy
I just stole the ignition, so when they walk up in it, I'm like

Haha, haha, what they on
Haha, haha, where they going
Haha, haha, the fuck they know
Haha, haha



Credits
Writer(s): Collin Innes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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