flyin' high in the sky like air force one. presidential. got a lot of good weed, would you care for some? let's just share some blunts and get sensual. 4:20 on the dot. got money and pot. two fingers in the face to a wannabe cop. got papes and a nug, we could break it up or we could vape to get fucked up. been a long ass week. i'm trynna chief the pain away. go to babylon like we some david greys. trichomes, red hairs and crystals. rest in peace to the homie named harris wittels. crown vic, two seats, bitch. bruce lee roundhouse kick to the dick of a roosh v. you're trynna talk about jesus...who's he? all i need is some weed and a loose leaf. they try to box in jake but as long as i take in oxygen i'm not finna break. and if you long in the face just put on my tape, it'll make you feel calm and ok. back in the day it was ramen and easy mac, then johnson and johnson put me on the map. work was bleedin' me dry like hemophiliacs, now i'm on your motherfuckin mind like a beanie hat. ridin' shottie with the ghost like jason. act snotty get the chrome to your face, kid. your living situation is your mom's basement. i got a gold pottie in my home with a bidet, shit! long finger to a pop song singer. i'm a bong ripper, you a hot dog sniffer. shit, i ain't trynna play mah-jongg with ya. imma pop pop pop and the glock gon' get ya. i know you motherfuckers love it. seated in the s600, man i'm runnin' up the budget. gettin money, gettin blunted. gun up in the glovebox, stuntin while i'm puffin on the chronic. trynna get a table at the bluebird, smokin on a blunt big enough to be a new word. you heard? i'm a piece of work. finna chief mad purp til i leave the earth. man, rap is the platform. smashin' the backboard. and i might drop a rack at the app store. and i might drop a millie on a new whip. hit the switch, lose the ceiling and i cruise, bitch. you can catch the kid at the majestic. i'm famous so i keep a bulletproof vest. sick of a cop, sick of a mop, fixin to pop off with the chopper. slob on the tip of the cock through my boxers.
Track Name: SHOENICE
get cozy with jacket. shit's homeopathic. i'm firing up with the homies. bitch, loan me some matches. we smoking that classic. you smoking that cat shit. you act like we homies but you don't know me. get back, bitch. i ain't new to this bull. stupid, i'll loosen your skull. just copped a beautiful new blue coupe and hit the cruise control. yo, where's the lighter fluid? bitch i'm the shoenice of music. get live in a cypher. i'm hype like a ryker's island dude is. pass the chillum. rap and pillage. stack the pillsbury. glass of miller, stat. and fill it fast; i've got some kills to bury. persian rugs. we murderous thugs who chug the bourbon. fuck a sermon. i'm no fucking servant. i got drugs for purchase. i be the son of a bitch that be running this shit. got a gat and a banana clip strapped to the front of my shit. look fine as heck in a calvin klein v-neck. i reside in a palace. i'm more callous than a t-rex. hit me up on the cellular. got weed in the jeans, you can smell the herb. got crack in the jaw. sell a sack to your paw. got a knack for the raw, so to hell with ya. i'm a badass dude trynna stack the cash. you a wackass punk with a dumb mustache. put a price on you, that's a target sale. drop your body in the drink with the sharks and whales. all i day i sips la croix like i'm a hipster boy. posted on the corner with the work so come and get it, boy. slinging boy since i was young enough for christmas toys. jacket's back, you bitches. oi!
Track Name: HIGH
hopping out the car like a jackass. get money go hard. fuck the backlash. shorty wanna be a star like ASCAP but i be pulling that card like blackjack. i'm about to spaz on a rent-a-cop. swagger on a milli. got the philly blunt twisted, wanna hit it? better kill me. i'm really the fucking truth. go silly up in the booth. my wrist is too chilly. i run with the same crew. no love for a state troop. my money just ain't new. you asking the bartender to front you some grey goose. man…no shame. i went from nothing to fame like the homies in glo gang. now i'm chillin. your stack's smaller than krillin. my stack's tall as a building. i'm rappin for all the children. preschool. these fools ain't shit. i don't barter, i get it. i'm harder than fake tits. i'm lamping in first class cuz no one can surpass the boy. i'm from the city that birthed pastor troy. i'm from the city that birthed chris bridges. trynna do a couple lines, smoke purp and get lifted. i'm a phony? that's bologna. you don't know me or the homies. you a pony ass jabroni and you probably work at shony's. you can't throw me. i'm too tony. just fall back. dressed in all black. ask kenan, i'm all that.
Track Name: LALALA LALALA
vamoose, you rude fucker. the dude's a true juice lover. filling you up like two suppers or a used rubber. my crew's a bunch of glue huffers and poop scrubbers who grew up in gutters and ain't used to food in the cupboard. i spoke the truth and accrued duckets. man i got it. been rocking stages since the days of the jk project. i'm cocky/obnoxious. taking shots til i vomit. drink a bottle of sake and wash it down with a vodka tonic. i'm a goofball. use the booth like a bathroom stall. you rappers need to stop acting, this ain't a casting call. you rappers need to stop playing, this ain't a chucky cheese. leave you with a bunch of cuts and lesions if you fuck with me. you suck like chest wounds. confess, stupid. get future to shoot you like you ain't trusted by metro boomin, damn. i'm going ham and cheese sandwich. roll the freaking camera. if he ain't damaging beats he's asleep in a hammock. summer time. what i want is mine. don't ever try me, dog. you must've lost your fucking mind. y'all just illuminati puppets. i'm fed up with lies. so grab my hog and suck it off til i bust in your eye. swag it out like new shoes. the dude's crew is a who's who of lude mamma jammas that belong in the atlanta zoo. try to tangle with dude, get strangled and bruised. fuck a star spangled banner, bitch i'll kurt angle your boo. peep the flat screen. coffee's the vaccine. catch me rocking shades and curlers like i'm maxine. jacket's good for your body like some flax seed. quit playin' and pass the weed before i get nasty and mean.
Track Name: GREEN IMPALA
4/20 vision. more money than christians. these whores diss and i'm hiding corpses underneath bridges. i stay dumb as bricks cuz forrest gump is religion. shorty ain't tippin? shorty trippin. shorty's a dipshit. my force awakens. i'm known to torture some bacon. take the porsche to vegas for some stories of a sordid nature. i score some mango haze and just blaze so i'm more creative than i pour jameson in my face so i'm more elated. now, this is for them long night shifts slower than rain man and puttin on nice grins faker than spray tans. talking to wall-eyed bitches about some wheat toast and using up all my strength not to scream at them hoes. trynna increase the cake the legal way but jake is struggling. might need to cop some heat and wait until the day of judgement. bitch i know it's coming, i'm a blind prophet. fine, just roll your eyes and scoff but i can't get my mind off it. pull up in a green impala. we treat the weed like allah. me and the team be rolling steam and if you need it, holla. you just a eucalyptus leaf and we koalas. we some dolla snatchin people, man. we'll steve seagal ya. disease and famine is rampant and i need some weed to manage. my words are the paintbrush and fucker, the beat is the canvas. i'm hungry like plastic hippos. this goes out to the kin-folk who was with me back in the day like in '08 when i was shit-broke. we came a long ass way, but i guess we made it from rollin up dimes and pennies to private jets to jamaica. bizzare shit. i used to get my car stripped now i'm gettin cigars like and bear skin is the carpet. i be the one track minded dumbass white kid. my flow be hotter than fire pits. fuck that trite shit. i'm just trynna inspire, bitch. i'm just honest. you need to read your ass a book or get some hooked on phonics. i'm screaming "legalize prostitution and pot-using. open the borders up, who gives a fuck? we're not usin em. free every inmate in prison and let's get some bacon sizzlin. the future is yours. quit playin, make a decision.
Track Name: VIBES
can i vibe with you? cuz i gotta vibe with some body. you the only body around. i think me and you should get down and just go out on the town. i got an ounce of that loud, so let's bounce. back to the crib, where we can be gettin into some nasty shit. let's make a pact and have a dip in some acid with our wrists slit open. leave a note on the mattress, bitch. jacket's had it up to here with this rappin shit. i'm sick of workin for tips from jerks and bitches. i think i'm finna quit and get into the murder business. my soul's listless. my whole shit's just beat down. these clowns finna get the kid on his steve chow. i'm so negative. naw, i'm just unedited. pop a sedative. money's tight like blood relatives. ain't finna settle with this. i'm onto better shit. fuck a 10 to 6. i'm runnin for drug president. fuck sittin in traffic. feel like i'm on cash cab and every red light is a challenge. i'm trynna lose some wait/weight so i'm having a tossed salad and i'm talented enough to throw these hacks off balance. been in the industry since i was fifteen. the stress got a kid addicted to schlitz and nicotine. a man should quit before his anger gets explosive. imma hand em in my two finger notice. lemme vibe with ya. lemme just quit the real shit. that ill shit, homie. lemme know if you feel it, fucker. it's my world and bitch, time is of the essence. let's have us a fuckin bad vibe session cuz i'm stressed out.
Track Name: THE WORK
posted on the block with my cigarettes. slinging rock, smoking pot, drinking triple sec. the album flopped so it's back to drug music. i'm a motherfucking problem. fuck a buddhist. i must do this. jacket needs to get back in the black stat and so to increase the cash he be bagging up mad kraken. now he seems to be stackin up mad racks. catch him on capitol ave or just travelin like mad max. peoplestown has got a homeless problem. one mile over from grant park they sellin dope and robbin. sellin pussy after dark cuz they be broke and jobless. me, i got my GED but i ain't go to college. we the children of a dead god. we hedgehogs. no hedge funds, just fresh ones. yeah we be them motherfuckers. all my dogs got stepsons. self-made wealthy since 12th grade, smell me? i been a well-paid hellraiser since regis was felching kelly. i gets the party poppin. sober's hardly an option. you tards keep talkin smart if you wanna part with your noggin. what's a king to a stoner god? bitch it's quite trite. chartered a jet from bogota. call it white flight. corrosive like an acid burn on all you stupid fucks. man, i smoke until i'm taciturn. i used to fuck your system up, now i sell drugs that fuck your system up. simple sluts who think i give a fuck can kiss my pimpled butt. jacket's back like it's the wintertime. i'm in your mind. sinner biding time on earth before the end of times. jacket's off; it's gettin warm in here. i'm norman lear. swarmin' rears like i was trynna start a porn career…but that's the work.
Track Name: SHITMONGER
eighty ounces in my system. eighty thousand in my bank account. my accountant's slippin. first i made a living then i made a killing off of feeding of addiction. stacking riches to the ceiling. hook you up with no prescription, cuz bitch i ain't a doctor. i got the properest products, from oxycontin to beta-blockers. work hard, no play, no sleep cuz i got an obligation to the fiends. the motherfucking shit monger. the former waffle slinger. i'm trynna get em high and keep em high like an opera singer. the diner jockey turned shit monger. it's the greatest job in the world…just ask prince's doctor.
Track Name: FEATHERWEIGHT
some days i'm kinda lonely and i need someone to hold me and take away my pain. sometimes love is tough to manage but with some trust and understanding it'll be okay. and if you want my love don't hesitate cuz baby you knock me out like a featherweight. and if you need my touch don't be afraid cuz honey you knock me out like a featherweight. and baby i got you. life was giving me uppercuts, til i met you and i struck some luck. the kid was fuckin up, now you got me on the up and up. my heart was turning cold but you nourished my soul. man, you got me feeling high like i just burned a bowl. klinkin wine glasses on a moonlit beach on vacation. now i'm lovedrunk, baby, might need to uber to the days inn. we overcame the lame shit cuz we had patience, now it looks like we made it like how that twain bitch stated it. though life can get kinda fucked up, i got you to tell me what's what and make it all just melt. even though i get frustrated, when i'm with you i feel elated and i can be myself. cuz baby you got me. okay, we did it on your own, baby. amateur method. when i'm with you i feel at home, baby. damn you're a blessing. you know you got me seein stars. heart racin like i was stealin cars, plus my head's buzzin like i was puffin on three cigars. bubble bath splashin with my other half, laughin. i put none above her. fate made us lovers; it had to happen. the sad rapper got a bad lass and switched his tune. now he's mad passionate love trippin like he did some shrooms. let's put something up in your womb like fuck it, dude. all i see is the future when i look into your baby blues. the white picket fence, a porch swing too. work would be nothin as long as i'm comin home to you. god damn you got me buggin. damn you're really somethin. you make me so glad to be your man. i really love ya. all the bullshit i been though don't cause me alarm because that same bullshit brought me into your arms and i'm happy, girl. <3
Track Name: CAPTAIN HERB
smokin weed until i'm taciturn. i'm feelin flyer than the guy known as captain herb. i drink so much i need a catheter. i got some cash to burn, i'm finna splurge on pabst and burgers and that's my word. murder kroger is my grocer, homes. caesar coze of hip hop. i keeps a loaded chrome chillin in the waist with an eighth of the kush. why you takin' a look? i'm jake crook. fuck you if you put faith in a book. mercy me. jacket heard you got some beef, he gave his peoples the word and now you're murdered in the street. went from workin in the service industry to burnin weed with kings and queens while you nervously purchase the new CD. man your bases, it's the atlanta made hand grenade. damn i'm paid. your grandma's pager's in my rolodex. it's hood politics. i should call it quits but shorty givin me knowledge like a college kid. i'm ballin, bitch. let me show you how gentlemen flirt. notice my genitals turn to stone when she trembles and twerks. bro, it's essential to burn the most presidential of herb. and no, we pay no attention to a pencil-dick jerk. time to run it back to the crib with a platinum wrist. i've had it with pigs acting savage-ish and just hasslin' the kid. you can catch me on capitol ave with a six pack of the schlitz. after i drink it, i'll be havin a fit.