Wwarehouse

[Intro] What you expect, nigga? [Verse] I’m programmed to smoke grams of the indica hemp Me and my girl in our own world as we sit on the bench Thinking about past times, ‘cause the present's a gift Lesser what we wanted to give, because stress is a bitch And I know you wanna run away until you forget About me and what we had together, we have regrets I wish there was a button on this game, so we could reset I never wanted space, but we don’t know how to eject And for the record, I ain’t trippin on these other niggas ‘Cause there ain't shit another man can ever discover with her And understand I’m a man, so you think quicker I think liquor till I’m sicker, so, we bicker Trouble and stumbling over the gals curves And you muttering and cussin'; pretty lips, foul words My negative active reactions are embedded Me and my rootly fetish, and you cruelly taking credit, unh [Outro] I'm sorry But, you know... You just gotta keep pushin'