Imported Goods Action Bronson

[Action Bronson]
[coughs] Oh my god, this mothafuckin' sour is too good
I don’t even be fuckin' with that other shit
That shit hurts my throat man
I need that shit that tastes like fuckin', fuckin' soap
Joy, Ajax. Shit… ayo, this is what I be doin' on that…

[Verse 1]
Orlando Magic warm-up suits and black Shaqs
'95: younger Bronson on the fast track
To blast gat, now I'm looking past that
I want the cash stack higher than the NASDAQ
I put the work in, the downtime I'm cooking lamb
A thousand Dutches in the air like it's a reefer jam
Aretha jam, you better R-E-S-P-E-C-T me
Or risk the forest where the motherfucking rest your team be
Peking duck, and large liver, goose carver
Swiss Bally's, smoke cigar just like a new father
You know the motto, jacket to the knee
I can't help if I'm a fiend, I had to tap into the beat, Lord
Spark a seance, cause everybody lifted
I'm like the strainer with the fucking powder being sifted up
This is Queens Day, alleys where the fiends play
Yo cuff the Guess on the construction, take it easy

[Hook]
This for my people making sales until they back hurt
See the beast on the creep, they let the Mac squirt
Bitch on the backs, that do the dippies on the bikes, and
Loud pipes and rocking leathers like a wild Viking
My man who just came home, and some are going up
Fiends up in the alley, sippin Balley fucking throwing up
Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize
Always diving into thighs, blowing smoke into the skies