Lyrics:
Lan
Getting high over convos
Or on the west coast
With extra syrup at Roscoe's
Showed my niggas to fish
We finna Gucci the poncho
Spoke it into
I think back on the olden days
Back in high school I could smoke an eighth
Make a sandwich open-faced
Moneyballin', Oakland A's rap game Brad Pitt
I get by I get high yeah yeah
I get by I get high yeah yeah
Get by get high yeah yeah
Get by get by yeah yeah
Aye I get by I get by
I get high yeah
with a bird on a hot stove
I could cook a brick with my eyes closed
Chicken and serve like Roscoe's my Tahoe
Ridin' round servin custos outside blow
Free
niggas with
Them stuffed in a Fender
On the West coast, I'm one of the littest
Outside of Roscoe's smokin' dope by the
Fronto with a couple of bitches
That
clique's lookin lavish in upscale casino style
Flexin muscles like a Gotti trial
Yellow case get shook by the court with the judge
You should know a pimp,
down in traffic catch me grooving in the Chevy
Asshole by nature I've been proven to be petty
When provoked
Niggas must be comedians cause niggas telling
through hell and came back bitch
I’m bullet proof
Please know that she fuck with a savage
Get that guap by all means, it's a habit
She a demon for clout,
the Ph love watin' rinchels
Cause they doughnuts
They go nuts for a dozen
Shut up they spot, me and my baby cousin
It seems they were slippin' by
And we
something good
But I shoulda had another mechanic under my hood
If you see me walking by you, boy, don't you even speak
Pretend you on the sofa and I'm
(Ludacris) Verse 1
I just touched down in killa Cali,
Strapped up my boots,
Got scooped up by Game,
So I hopped up in the coupe,
Gaah, What up
when I reach my own
Stay free; let the time go pass me by
Stay high, I'm P.O.D.'d. P.O.D.'d
We smoke on nothin' but the best of buddah
Ooh, yeah,
something good
But I shoulda had another mechanic under my hood
If you see me walking by you, boy, don't you even speak
Pretend you on the sofa and I'm
was a
Brief moment of silence nAOMI
I’m going to sail out real
Soon want to join me "Sail Out" that was her
Innuendo for getting high tHE BOY
I don’t
Roscoe Dash, MGK, Lil Jon turn up, bitch
It's a mu'fuckin party and we
Finna turn it up
Them hatas still hatin' on ya
Well, I don't really give
guns aimed at your nozzle
Big Roscoe
Donnie Brasco wish death to they vato
Cigarette smoking
On the crater for the corner store
Same place
than Roscoe beatin' James Todd Sr.
And smackin' his back with vacuum cleaner attachments
I grew up in a wild hood, as a hazardous youth
With a fucked
can catch a fade
Brought out 50 blew up the city, young Saddam Hussein
Pusha Ink the label baby, everything else fuckin borin
I'm at Roscoe's, eatin
the first nigga that's catching a case
I stalk through the hood, get a QP, I'm so G
You can not do me, I'm a certified gangsta
And I'm sponsored by Louis
Dog
And when I Duke it's a Hazard, so call me Boss Hog
Or Roscoe Pecol, oh! pain
That's the sound of the Caravan, running the train
Yeah yeah,
with the blues (ooh)
Going Mr. T with the jewels (ooh)
Get salt over by your boo (ooh)
I ain't never kickin' no spooks
Nigga say he thinkin' bout
last an hour in my shoe (woo)
It's an Air Force One (woo)
Trainers by the truck load, trainers by the ton
Don't be dazed when I catch you by your J's
last an hour in my shoe (woo)
It's an Air Force One (woo)
Trainers by the truck load, trainers by the ton
Don't be dazed when I catch you by your J's
to get set up, by a crooked cop
So I'm sittin back, rhyming on instrumentals
Anything I touch, it turns monumental
Me and Jerry Wonder, we keep it credible
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