Gettin’ High Fire (Ft. Master P)

(*Master P talking*)
What's up y'all, you heard me
Master P in this bitch, I'mma introduce y'all
To my lil homie, his name Fire
He bout to get y'all real fucked up
With this gangsta shit

[Fire]
The buddah sack, circulates through the chest
Puts the mind to rest, fresh from everyday stress
In the West, that's why I pack a tech and strap my vest
Flex nothing less, than optimoes or it gots to go
Cause y'all hoes, don't know this nigga well
I like to get blowed, and rocks what I sell
As I dwell through the home, of the Sac, but ain't nobody
Passing up the potent, watch a nigga jump up on it
If you want it nigga get it, hit it
Inhale exhale, then bail through the angel's spell

[Hook]
I'm getting higher, off that fire
We got the blunts and optimoes, we coming shy brah
I'm getting blowed we getting blowed, so let's get blowed together
Let's put a five up on the dime, and hit it with the fellas

[Fire]
I got the Regal with the D's and Vogues, for them skeezing hoes
Legal when I roll, because I stash a stack in the dough
Don't be a ho, because your ho chose me
But most be, only they think I'm selling OZ's
Cause hoes see the gold teeth, and fresh pair of baggies
Got the fade down, and there ain't no got the off it in Cali
Up in the alley's where they from, nobody of that nigga who got he jacked
Put the bullets in his back, for trying to take my sack
No slack is cut, when nuts be tested
Ingested with herb smoke, from that West bitch