I like this beat so I'ma leap on it
Just won 5 stacks playing Wii bowling
We on, we owners, and we own it
Got your girl with me and boy is she rolling
You ain't smoking what we smoking
Blowing presidential, keep dro, that regular we veto it
A beast homie, a street poet
I been listening, a lot of y'all sound kind of Lito-ish
You motherfuckers better man up
I'm just sitting here celebrating a fucking hundred grand month
Let the courts pop, let the rubberbands bust
Let a witness get gunned down when he stand up
Bad news on the tube, so I change the station
Can't seem to get that rumor off me that I'm gang-related
Is he what, his label mates, is that why he don't hang with Baby
Way before Champagne Crazy, I was making paper daily
For the record, I'm unfuckwitable
You're fucking with a nigga don't just spit, bitch I live it too
Yes, I will get at you, yeah, if you play me close
Then make a toast with your bitch after she makes me toast
With my eggs and my orange juice
I done fucked plenty rappers wives, I warned you
Lito go ham, I was born to
See it's simple, play with me then they mourn you
I get my money out the streets like I was never signed
Second best rapper where I'm from, awe, never mind
The only one that every line, every rhyme, every time
Kill that shit and act like I was never trying
I ain't dissing, this the truth, you better know it
They talking money in the booth, but never show it
Who the fuck are you? You don't know Star
That's not an old school, that's just an old car
And I don't smoke Kools, but I smoke jar
Shoot a nigga in the face and blame it on the bar
Let's make this toast and hit the store, I need some more cigars
She need some H2O, 'cause boy is she rolling hard
Where I'm from, we say she twacked
Cashville, where ten G's will get you jacked
I hit a Nuvo, thought it was lean
Then I spit that bullshit out like it was listerine
She's talking to me, but I ain't listening
But she be shining with the head, yeah, something like Mr. Clean
I can toast to that
We getting money, how we supposed to act
GRIND HARD
Just won 5 stacks playing Wii bowling
We on, we owners, and we own it
Got your girl with me and boy is she rolling
You ain't smoking what we smoking
Blowing presidential, keep dro, that regular we veto it
A beast homie, a street poet
I been listening, a lot of y'all sound kind of Lito-ish
You motherfuckers better man up
I'm just sitting here celebrating a fucking hundred grand month
Let the courts pop, let the rubberbands bust
Let a witness get gunned down when he stand up
Bad news on the tube, so I change the station
Can't seem to get that rumor off me that I'm gang-related
Is he what, his label mates, is that why he don't hang with Baby
Way before Champagne Crazy, I was making paper daily
For the record, I'm unfuckwitable
You're fucking with a nigga don't just spit, bitch I live it too
Yes, I will get at you, yeah, if you play me close
Then make a toast with your bitch after she makes me toast
With my eggs and my orange juice
I done fucked plenty rappers wives, I warned you
Lito go ham, I was born to
See it's simple, play with me then they mourn you
I get my money out the streets like I was never signed
Second best rapper where I'm from, awe, never mind
The only one that every line, every rhyme, every time
Kill that shit and act like I was never trying
I ain't dissing, this the truth, you better know it
They talking money in the booth, but never show it
Who the fuck are you? You don't know Star
That's not an old school, that's just an old car
And I don't smoke Kools, but I smoke jar
Shoot a nigga in the face and blame it on the bar
Let's make this toast and hit the store, I need some more cigars
She need some H2O, 'cause boy is she rolling hard
Where I'm from, we say she twacked
Cashville, where ten G's will get you jacked
I hit a Nuvo, thought it was lean
Then I spit that bullshit out like it was listerine
She's talking to me, but I ain't listening
But she be shining with the head, yeah, something like Mr. Clean
I can toast to that
We getting money, how we supposed to act
GRIND HARD
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