Alchemy/High Tolerance
Turned lead to gold, bitch dont hit me up
Last month I wasn't shit, came back thru glow'n
Now it ain't nothin but love
Midnight climax, A to PM blown
Think you said enough
Sunlight creeping, bleeding into the morn
Fed, already stuffed
I done took flight, took the risk
Ain't take a day off
Run right thru the light, five percent
It's a race car
Floor the gas, Porsche from off the porch
Circle gang tight
Lil bitch got the wagon, but I'm late
What's the face like?
Look, aye what's the... look
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Twist that pressure up
OG kill, bussin triple wrapped
Double vacuum-sealed
Don't even ask
Big smoke, bigger tab
Get you taxed forreal
Strictly gas!
Yeah...
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Bitch don't hit me up, don't hit my line
Nah
Aye, don't hit my line 'cause I ain't picking up
Switching up, throw dirt on my name
Could never dig it up
Huh!
Benji's up, stuck
Bentley truck, semis tucked
Oh yeah!
Switching sides, gettin sick & tired
New faces popping up
Out the mud
My dawg like my rib
Kinfolk like my blood, my mama kids
Shit is what it is
Cherish what it was
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Twist that pressure up
OG Kill... yeah
Hit like Holyfield
Hold up, chill, wait...
Smoked out of my mind, in the hooptie low
Watching foreign impalas with the seat back
Bitches on my line tryna get me lined up
Back down, don't you know I ride 'round with that 38
Dirty plates, QP in the stash right where the burner stacked
Hit the dash, gas mask off, this a race car
Engines revved, might throw up the set
Before I take off
Weight exact
Why you niggas mad, don't you want dough?
Big dawg before I had the bag, could get you all smoked
Don't hit my line
Yeah... (yeah) okay
Okay, deep down where the clocks stop
Clicking if the scales don't recalibrate
Empty bottles look like memorabilia once dem pockets straight
Miscellaneous niggas play the field, still can't make a play
New day, new agenda
Brand new wheels, sitting sideways
Brand new wheels, sitting on half a tank
Stainless steel chopping
Boppers still don't know the time & place
Hidden hills, out the way forreal
Paid and out of shape
Young and still mobbin
I can't fake to make it
Long as bills to pay, we still slidin, still
Reverse, rewind, another spliff
Eyes closed, doors swinging
Got a high tolerance, still
I'm still four-door pimpin, dolo politickin
Fuck you mean... yeah
Reverse, rewind, another spliff
Eyes closed, doors swinging
Got a high tolerance, still
I'm still stragglin on the scene
Hella yellow bone boppers on my team
Last month I wasn't shit, came back thru glow'n
Now it ain't nothin but love
Midnight climax, A to PM blown
Think you said enough
Sunlight creeping, bleeding into the morn
Fed, already stuffed
I done took flight, took the risk
Ain't take a day off
Run right thru the light, five percent
It's a race car
Floor the gas, Porsche from off the porch
Circle gang tight
Lil bitch got the wagon, but I'm late
What's the face like?
Look, aye what's the... look
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Twist that pressure up
OG kill, bussin triple wrapped
Double vacuum-sealed
Don't even ask
Big smoke, bigger tab
Get you taxed forreal
Strictly gas!
Yeah...
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Bitch don't hit me up, don't hit my line
Nah
Aye, don't hit my line 'cause I ain't picking up
Switching up, throw dirt on my name
Could never dig it up
Huh!
Benji's up, stuck
Bentley truck, semis tucked
Oh yeah!
Switching sides, gettin sick & tired
New faces popping up
Out the mud
My dawg like my rib
Kinfolk like my blood, my mama kids
Shit is what it is
Cherish what it was
Fresh as fuck
Woke up, shit then shower
Twist that pressure up
OG Kill... yeah
Hit like Holyfield
Hold up, chill, wait...
Smoked out of my mind, in the hooptie low
Watching foreign impalas with the seat back
Bitches on my line tryna get me lined up
Back down, don't you know I ride 'round with that 38
Dirty plates, QP in the stash right where the burner stacked
Hit the dash, gas mask off, this a race car
Engines revved, might throw up the set
Before I take off
Weight exact
Why you niggas mad, don't you want dough?
Big dawg before I had the bag, could get you all smoked
Don't hit my line
Yeah... (yeah) okay
Okay, deep down where the clocks stop
Clicking if the scales don't recalibrate
Empty bottles look like memorabilia once dem pockets straight
Miscellaneous niggas play the field, still can't make a play
New day, new agenda
Brand new wheels, sitting sideways
Brand new wheels, sitting on half a tank
Stainless steel chopping
Boppers still don't know the time & place
Hidden hills, out the way forreal
Paid and out of shape
Young and still mobbin
I can't fake to make it
Long as bills to pay, we still slidin, still
Reverse, rewind, another spliff
Eyes closed, doors swinging
Got a high tolerance, still
I'm still four-door pimpin, dolo politickin
Fuck you mean... yeah
Reverse, rewind, another spliff
Eyes closed, doors swinging
Got a high tolerance, still
I'm still stragglin on the scene
Hella yellow bone boppers on my team
Credits
Writer(s): Derek Maxey Ward
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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