BBS

[Intro] Yeah Smoking out the big jar Nigga [Verse] This that gold BBS flow Plastic Nike Air tags on your original 4's Niggas done Z'd on ya mans, and I'm rollin a O Leave 'em sleep, I don't need them suckers listening to me Pack the bong full with everything except the kitchen sink Underneath which I keep a set of Andis clippers I can fix my lining up 'fore we go over by them bitches A quick little something, can't get the back I don't know where I left my hand mirror Type of dilemmas'll never hinder my Jet living, we just chillin' So don't come around here, fake toughing Running off the women, bossed up, all us Outside the club waiting to tip drivers who pull our cars up The fuck you thought this was, dawg? I'm a trill motherfucker after all Haters is dressed as safety nets, encouraging my fall Won't catch me, dear, but you can catch me on air When my new shit premiere At whatever media outlet decide to play it fair Fuck playing dead, pimpin', I'ma play the bear Grizzly, seriously, Fishburne turn Flip styles furiously, this that 70's soul Green, Al chemistry, ay mane Been a G since Buddy Lees Lames be cuffin they jeans, and they bitches I be cooking these bird-ass hoes, running circles 'round 'em They rotisserie chickens Love gotta shovel in her hand, I see you digging Strike gold, build yo own coffin with it; dead ass Flick ashes on the girls in my past tense The telly's for the ones I was just fucking The crib's for the one I was gon' get right back with It's easy to get tangled in the stars, spangled Mangled in the night life, living out my bars, dangerous Yeah