[Intro]
This is the real action
The pot party; the the trippers, the grasshoppers, the hip ones
All gathered in secrecy and flying high as a kite
Cause I got devils on my left
Got fuckin' angels on my right
Don't fuckin' sleep at night
[Chorus]
I got devils on my left, I got angels on my right
I don't know which way to go no more
No more, Lord
I got devils on my left, I got angels on my right
I give a fuck which way I go no more
No more, Lord
[Verse 1]
Breathalysers on until I cut my rapping off it
If you feds in choir, why? then this is just my rapping profit
Ain't no jokey-joke, I only been rapping honest
That don't mean that I don't gots the smoke and keep a pack of chronic
Caribbean rum - Johnny Depp, walk it off
Forty shot, I could pop this bottle or this corsham cough
Now you haters wanna hate because you're bored a lot
My whip I rock combined with my wrist, it could pay your mortgage off (You're still broke)
I give racks out to my people still
Right after my tour, hear my dad's out doing dishes still
I'm a man and for my fams I bring traditional
Money chat, residual, money chat - keep it real
Who stayed up? (The fam did) that's a double shot viagra pill
I fucked your girl then watched you drop off your daffodils
You want a wife or slut? Pfft, well make you happy still
I be busy busting my money and getting rapping skill
I smoke trees, I got right for the summer
I got a Beamer with that speed and I got white in my Hummer
And I still got crib without no keys that I can ride to in summer
Cause I got women that want D that I give pipe, I'm a plumber, I'll trade you
This is the real action
The pot party; the the trippers, the grasshoppers, the hip ones
All gathered in secrecy and flying high as a kite
Cause I got devils on my left
Got fuckin' angels on my right
Don't fuckin' sleep at night
[Chorus]
I got devils on my left, I got angels on my right
I don't know which way to go no more
No more, Lord
I got devils on my left, I got angels on my right
I give a fuck which way I go no more
No more, Lord
[Verse 1]
Breathalysers on until I cut my rapping off it
If you feds in choir, why? then this is just my rapping profit
Ain't no jokey-joke, I only been rapping honest
That don't mean that I don't gots the smoke and keep a pack of chronic
Caribbean rum - Johnny Depp, walk it off
Forty shot, I could pop this bottle or this corsham cough
Now you haters wanna hate because you're bored a lot
My whip I rock combined with my wrist, it could pay your mortgage off (You're still broke)
I give racks out to my people still
Right after my tour, hear my dad's out doing dishes still
I'm a man and for my fams I bring traditional
Money chat, residual, money chat - keep it real
Who stayed up? (The fam did) that's a double shot viagra pill
I fucked your girl then watched you drop off your daffodils
You want a wife or slut? Pfft, well make you happy still
I be busy busting my money and getting rapping skill
I smoke trees, I got right for the summer
I got a Beamer with that speed and I got white in my Hummer
And I still got crib without no keys that I can ride to in summer
Cause I got women that want D that I give pipe, I'm a plumber, I'll trade you
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