and i'm still pop the champagne,
good weed, bad bitches in airplanes!
niggers get extra life spare change,
leave your bitch around my gang and she's fair game
get so hot, standin' near a flame,
twenty thousand on my wrist, fifty on my chain
club bonus, man! we're drinking all the rose,
and niggers hate but i just off what the hoes say
he a skinny nigger, but he do it big
yeah, it's looking like a movie, but is how i live
young boss taylor gang general
drinking up the pink bottle, rose imperial!
and my bad bitch cooked like a center fold
cooked like a chef, smoke weed like it's medicinal
smell the engine burning and hear my tire
we'd be popping corks like fireworks
we need more champagne,
tell the waiter grab a couple more bottles and bring up
i need more champagne!
yeah, i'd be full of rare bottles,
in this city that i come from i'm the head honcho
full of cush bottles, full of more weed,
see me in my yellow car she got so wet!
it was smoke., now she
fuck with her nigger, he was so lame!
she said he let her taste, but she don't know the name,
drink it by the taste, i'm gonna
i'm with my.. getting liquored up,
make this money, then blow it like i don't give a fuck!
what i talk about!
ah, i'm living like you could write a song about,
they just think i'll pay
standing on the table, standing on the couch,
somebody tell the waiter that we all missed out.
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