[Intro: Dom Kennedy]
My nigga Smoke shit, huh
Check it out
[Verse 1: Dom Kennedy]
Gather round hustlers, that's if you're still livin'
Get more groupie love than Mike Bivins
Y'all niggas gotta play your role, Taj Gibson
Shoot the whole video set like Benny Boom
Diamonds dancin' all in the light, cash rules
My chick gotta know how to rap, I'm Papoose
I mean I should just scorch you niggas, Scott Storch you niggas
How they all ready, real niggas on the come up
Huraches on my feet, brand new, I'm not a runner
Since Ross killed Baby, I'm the number one stunna
You waitin' on me to fall off, take a number
Let the strap hang off the Vandals
Sitting on my corner, it's a gamble
Them niggas only drew at Art Basel
Oh yeah
[Verse 2: Cozz]
Huh, the hustlers in a room
Rhyme so hard even a Busta would approve
Hoes ain't nothin', if I fuck 'em you could too
Look it ain't no drug bust, it ain't no cuffin' in here fool
But look, shit I must be, diseased or halfway ugly
'Cause these haters talk shit, but look, they don't ever touch me
I'm cool but familiar with the funk boy, I'm musty
From the place where everybody got the damn munchies
'Cause niggas gettin' smoked like a blunt or two
And bitches gettin' mush like the front of 'shrooms
Either dead or in jail is where that gets you
When the fear get you, don't act tough out of peer pressure
Now my face the money maker, I'ma let my peers get you
I steer letters in directions of Heaven
Hopin' God hears me clearly, and clears me of past endeavors
And prayin' that we all get in there, man, shout out my nigga DZA
My nigga Smoke shit, huh
Check it out
[Verse 1: Dom Kennedy]
Gather round hustlers, that's if you're still livin'
Get more groupie love than Mike Bivins
Y'all niggas gotta play your role, Taj Gibson
Shoot the whole video set like Benny Boom
Diamonds dancin' all in the light, cash rules
My chick gotta know how to rap, I'm Papoose
I mean I should just scorch you niggas, Scott Storch you niggas
How they all ready, real niggas on the come up
Huraches on my feet, brand new, I'm not a runner
Since Ross killed Baby, I'm the number one stunna
You waitin' on me to fall off, take a number
Let the strap hang off the Vandals
Sitting on my corner, it's a gamble
Them niggas only drew at Art Basel
Oh yeah
[Verse 2: Cozz]
Huh, the hustlers in a room
Rhyme so hard even a Busta would approve
Hoes ain't nothin', if I fuck 'em you could too
Look it ain't no drug bust, it ain't no cuffin' in here fool
But look, shit I must be, diseased or halfway ugly
'Cause these haters talk shit, but look, they don't ever touch me
I'm cool but familiar with the funk boy, I'm musty
From the place where everybody got the damn munchies
'Cause niggas gettin' smoked like a blunt or two
And bitches gettin' mush like the front of 'shrooms
Either dead or in jail is where that gets you
When the fear get you, don't act tough out of peer pressure
Now my face the money maker, I'ma let my peers get you
I steer letters in directions of Heaven
Hopin' God hears me clearly, and clears me of past endeavors
And prayin' that we all get in there, man, shout out my nigga DZA
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