Lyrics
La musica de Harry Fraud
Smoke something, biatch!
Blow a kiss to my dick, wash my body with the sponge
Feed me Fla-vor-ices, put the chronic in my lungs
Tailor me a leather suit, on some Jodeci shit
Bi-coastal man, we both will be rich
Leave the party with your daughter (little Debra)
In the morning do karate in the water
Hear sounds of samurais
Rockin shorts in the winter don't fuck with splinters (rats)
Roll with sinners — A bunch of winners, catered lunch and dinners
Why my drug jar look so empty?
Drop a hook and then I'll probably cop an M3
Long knife ('chete), that's in the event
Somebody try to get me then to Heaven they'll be sent
Oh, off the strength, caviar and Porsche taste
All the beans are gettin' Boston baked
On thin ice, I skate across the lake
With the CCM tacks, my feet are like Cassius
Smoke premium cabbage
Yo we 80, 000 shopping malls but we ain't browsin'
Poppin' hood in Transco Towers
Prowler prowling Gucci towels and bathroom vials
Nouns, owls, Aston Martins
Sparkin' one in valet parkin', loan sharkin'
Hopin' that my days-don't-get-darkened
Cheetah skin outside the parka
Propaganda propels us – ostrich feathers
Security guards with 9 berettas, pullin' up Volkswagen jettas
Causin' storms in sunny weather, in sunny whether, in sunny weather
Hopin' that my days get, hopin', hopin' days get, days get better
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Harry Fraud
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