Smoker Waka Flocka Flame

[Intro]
On the phone with transporters
I'm on the phone with transporters
Praying that the pack land
Mad on my phone, where's the back end

[Chorus]
Ayy my smoker cooking dope for me
They say there ain't no hope for me
White folks got the rope for me
My shooter bought a scope for me
Ayy my smoker cooking dope for me
They say there ain't no hope for me
White folks got the rope for me
My shooter bought a scope for me

[Verse 1]
Drums on me, funds on me, big homie
Waka Flocka, I don't fuck with shrimp niggas
Toting choppers, love the way it kick nigga
Gang banging, clique hanging, flag still red
Trap ringing, [?] ringing, and the phone ringing
[?] fuck the club bitch we door swinging
We got everything you want, moon rock in my blunt
Junkie cooking up a brick, now that's that [?] shit
We ain't in them bandos trapping out the spots
I don't call them niggas goons, they're my lil drops
All these fake [?] them just blood clots
Niggas tryna act boo but I ain't clicking up