Goon Bags (feat. Blue Daisy)

Friday night, street's packed Headed out, no plans to reach back Thoughts of a tongue tied, meet with yads Hold up to the sunrise, breach the flat Call the man, I'm like "Where you at?" Cross the tracks, we ain't afraid of that We are spraying tags, we done drained the yat Got a bus cause a man found gates to crash We green light, wave flag Out of the flash like we race drag Blow thick smoke out a chain of fags Can be sipping on shots till I faint and gag I'mma raid the bar when she serving them Pass out the bottle, can we merk the ten? Heads swimming hard in a swirl of Gin Wake up in a daze that can work again Goon bags, loose yads Run up in your flats with your goose flats That new crack, just swagger Crewboard looking like lil' blaggers Flipped on the fifth of those gold manors Name ain't written in no books We ain't leaving till hoes bladdered Wise living, loose world Lifestyle brimming with loose girls Live women, choose swerve Mans all peeking on two thirds G dubs speaking like hillbillies Still illy, fuck father Your bitch calling me godfather (We bring goon bags, brother we gon' do blags Got that true swag, everything with new tags) This be that, new shit Old dog flipping new tricks Out here living like two hicks Chicks all skinny like toothpicks Camera's on, it don't prove shit Crack it on and you'll choose dick Dash it on and you'll move with Tag along and you'll get used quick Tag along and get moved on Move along and get moved to I ain't out here trying to make a friend So say your piece so I'mma school through New school? Fuck a plan I'mma move on so fuck a fight Man like us stay out of sight, out of mind Plus, I'm out tonight Hangover, hurt like my head's crushed by a Land Rover So I go for the boot till a man sober I'm in the zone, I sip petroleum, I hit the drone Smoke spliffs alone, won't shift In a paranoid fit at home, lets stick the phone They call in the blonde, fix my tone I might drift the void till my liver's blown My kidneys shunk and my heart's a mess Five parts the tar, five parts the stress Surf the fine line, patrol the edge Scrape the foot of my sofa dreads I hit rock bottom and give to death Chain smoking rest there's nothing left Till I fuck my breath, turn tucks for death Six feet deep, laid to rest (We bring goon bags, brother we gon' do blags Got that true swag, everything with new tags)