Lyrics
Yeah,
Pop the stizzy turn the foreign up
This cuban chain feels like Antarctica
Costra Nostra in my veins we got the mob with us
Big blue hunnits in my pockets say in god we trust
Blowin' the smoke up out the moonroof
Hundred thousand for the stones bustin all of my pieces
I'm blowin smoke up out the moonroof
I told em catch the opposition leave em resting in pieces
Half a ticket on designer splash
Glock 43 inside the stash
Pop the stizzy, hop out with it and sign an autograph
Times change I used to re and break apart a half
I never knew I'd need accountants to do all this math
Blanco Pop got me higher than my bills on the monthly
Ain't tryna' to buy the drink unless you crack the seal right in front me
Independent baller, sellin out these shows out the country
Suckers talkin down cuz they washed, 40 fold them like laundry
Feel like I'm microdosin
Scriptures in my raps, this my bible open
Wish I'd fall off all my rivals hopin
It hurts to see me on the upswing
Im hustling
Six figure deal conducting
The plush benz, omerta be the code it's a trust thing
I fell out with some relatives that don't relate to loyalty
Liquor in my body kill the pain, but it might poison me
I broke bread when they was starving, they got up and then avoided me
Now that it's sewed up like embroidery, they plottin on destroyin me
Yeah,
Pop the stizzy turn the foreign up
This cuban chain feels like Antarctica
Costra Nostra in my veins we got the mob with us
Big blue hunnits in my pockets say in god we trust
Blowin' the smoke up out the moonroof
Hundred thousand for the stones bustin all of my pieces
I'm blowin smoke up out the moonroof
I told em catch the opposition leave em resting in pieces
I'm in the kitchen tryna whip me up a gourmet pie
Fetanyl, the more they die, the more they buy
Soon as they lower the casket, the more they cry
That's the more they hurt, when they pour that dirt
Did you love him or what
Because when they cover him up
Ain't no bringing him back
Thats the meaning of that
Yeah, I was fuckin them bitches and y'all was slingin' them packs
Y'all was loading them pistols, and y'all was cleaning them gats
We was doing it big
They was doing it small
They was wearing the same shit
We would ruin the mall
They would catch a couple events
We was doing it all
We was conquering land
We was moving the soil
Everything solid, big bags monthly
Gripped up crazy, even out the country
100% goon-proof
Now I'm in the back of the Bach
Blowin smoke up out the
Moonroof
Yeah,
Pop the stizzy turn the foreign up
This cuban chain feels like Antarctica
Costra Nostra in my veins we got the mob with us
Big blue hunnits in my pockets say in god we trust
Blowin' the smoke up out the moonroof
Hundred thousand for the stones bustin all of my pieces
I'm blowin smoke up out the moonroof
I told em catch the opposition leave em resting in pieces
WRITERS
John Doe
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Sentric Music, EMPIRE PUBLISHING
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