Your pockets´ slim pickings Lay ´em out like grilled chicken
It´s been an hour but that blunt still hittin´ like a champion Eatin´ scampi with Batali, 50 feet from the Pantheon And that´s my life, 60k for the glass pipe I´ll break it on your head if you don´t act right There´ll be bagpipes playin´ like a cop died While I wiggle 850s wearing foxhide I pray to Jobu that we all get money and live life sunny with a gold pool But the fact is, I stand alone like cactus Hide money under tempurpedic mattresses, shit You don´t know the half of this (you bitch), nah (you bitch) I serve the Jersey Shore Line with furs on (Uh) It´s my world, get my swerve on (Oh) Install the turbo on the Cherokee for certain It´s like my life directed by Tim Burton
And daddy twisted off the henara And I´m always on the center stage Reminisce on better days in a hammock, reading Hemingway Trying to get a better brain, then it rained Let it rain (yeah, yeah, yeah) I must´ve been a junkie in my past life, man I must´ve been a junkie in my past life
Standin´ in front of McDonald´s, throwin´ bottles Ninety degrees, Timbs on Ma, your kid´s gone A lot of graves to be pissed on Land of the free I think wrong (I think wrong) You know I got the drug so potent Johnny took a hit He died, came back, said, "That´s that shit" (Goddamn!)
Two-twenty in Toyota Supras (Uh) The shit sound like I´m shootin´ off bazookas (Uh) Flushing, Queens, no scare business here Assemble weapons with no hand twitches here (Uh-uh) Plus the strength of twelve oxen Hold it down, though, there´s no option Let it rain (Uh) I must´ve been a junkie in my past life, you know I must´ve been a fiend in my past life, fuck I must´ve been a junkie in my past life
Uh, these dudes trash like Michael Jordan jeans Hahaha, that´s it. I´m done
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