Ceviche Action Bronson (Ft. Solace)

[Intro: Solace]
Hey yo
Action Bronson
Solace
Motha fuckin PF Cuttin
You 'bout to hear some shit

[Verse 1: Action Bronson]
Hey yo
Fry the flamingo when we dining, planters on the table
Booby shining the rarest diamonds studs around the navel
Hop out the whip both feet touch at the same time
Greenbacks consolidated with the grey nine
Red dawn cook up the fishes with the heads on
He fanned the Bronsonelli known for never folding bread wrong
Every bill facing the same direction
Shit on my feet, split up the middle
Desert wiley with the suede complexion
Fill the glass, toast the brew, smoke the basil soup
Cop and crash a hazel coup, take a nasal too
Yes indeed I smoke minoras with my people
I'm rolling up the trilogy before I light the fucking sequel
Peppers are grilled with the diploma, the smoker
The apple-wood chip thirty-eight enhancing the aroma
'95 Karl Kani on the vest set
Death threats will get your cut ripped and your chest wet