| We can handle this like Neanderthals
|
| Or we can get into some player shit
|
| Stoned on ocean
|
| Rollin' up while I’m smokin'
|
| Drinkin' while we still pourin'
|
| Stoned on ocean
|
| Rollin' up, we still smokin'
|
| Drinkin' while we still pourin'
|
| Royal One High’s I copped today
|
| Supposed to leave Miami tomorrow, but I’ll probably stay
|
| I got animals in my closet, plenty furs and snakes
|
| Bakery bank, direct deposit, birthday cakes
|
| Stack it, stash it; |
| it’s in the combination safe
|
| Playbook exclusive; |
| execute what’s on each page
|
| Pulled up next to you, I was smokin' in that Wraith
|
| Your girl was tryin' to escape; |
| you shoulda seen her face
|
| Social media stampede over my next tape
|
| Every thirty days, another shipment sent your way
|
| Haters figure soon I will run out of shit to say
|
| But I rhyme what I live, it’s just my life is the shit
|
| Sick selection; |
| I got hella cars to whip
|
| Kick collection; |
| level straight marvelous
|
| Jewelry disrespectful; |
| my pinkie ring just called your chick, a bitch
|
| Stoned on ocean
|
| Rollin' up while we still smokin'
|
| High, everything in motion
|
| Luxury bars gettin' thought off
|
| Every time that I hear my Spyder start up
|
| Underground stars, bruh; |
| this grind was beyond tough
|
| Would like to think them times beyond us
|
| Smoked out till my time up
|
| In the cut, somewhere, where you find us
|
| With them lowriders lined up
|
| Eastside, bruh, who I shine or
|
| Who I three-wheel-motion that blue '65 for
|
| This year in my city, shook down the House of Blues
|
| It was a classy affair, I brung out Mack and Tune'
|
| A lot of millionaires was highed up in one room
|
| Fresh to death; |
| my dressing room was King Tut’s tomb, nigga
|
| Stoned on ocean
|
| Rollin' up while I’m smokin' |