Fascinating Grass

[Intro] Fascinating grass Grass [Verse 1: Big Tone] Inhale an L of elevation vegetation Out the one-hitter and exhale a spell of medication Get the case in the front gate for drunk dates And cheap scents synonymous with D-list celebrations The smell of cocktails be hella' abrasive Still I never felt the belch my name is Stella Factious The flyest accommodations of hotel arrangements Still bleaching the scent of reefer out they elevators I'm in the hooka lounge, lounging with the hooka, hacking through the clouds Poolside taco meat scatter with my belly hanging Celly ringing, voicemail be banging off the chain Never check 'em though, it's probably better if your text contain it So many lost hotel keys the front desk complaining I'm in the complementary robe, stanky legging with my necklace hanging Chest neck Carti framing like a westside seven native And this is either Sour Diesel or I'm levitating The Hermes really burn em' sunny no more speculation Wasting, Crown Nation, the explanation When your favorite rappers acting like next debatin' Satan [Verse 2: Quelle Chris] Peel back this blunt rap and use the straw that maintain it To sip the something strong with something carbonated Outfits like a prom occasion Bishop Don slash Russell Simmons sneakers with the blazer blazin' Smoked out flicks got an albino filter Fans thinking we Vybz Kartel tell 'em Vitiligo gellin' All city, in all cities Hadouken some broads suplex is all you gets Brain-dead, geeked out, stupid Stupid fresh I'm funky in a sang hubris Who the fuck you frauds pluggin' you a funk thuggin' Get the steppin' like Tommy and Cole buggin' That's what I call a cold dozen Flip on the gas and open up that closed oven Turn on that trash we likely to throw somethin' Pay us in cash and act like you know somethin' [Chorus: Quelle Chris] Smokin' on (fascinating grass) Feelin' like I'm smokin' on some Feelin' like I'm lifted off that Feelin' like I'm burnin' down some Get lifted off [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Moët Chandon the don of dons Thousand dollar Mont Blanc when I write songs Buy nice cars, life was hard I wasn't dealt nice cards My scars require more than Tiger Balm (ow) A new blue Mercedes can maybe cure your diabetes I bag dime pieces in Prada beanies And Buscemis, who you think you Houdini? I'm here in the flesh, still wonder who can see me Still a show, steal your ho don't think I won't? Send her home smellin' like hotel soap You tellin' jokes round grown folk Your raps like Adobo bro daddy I'm not your average Joe Blow Sling blow for cheese Veuve Clicquot I'm covered in gold I feel like C-3PO Covered in gold I feel like C-3PO [Verse 4: 87] What you talking you playboy, ain't shit sweet though Outside of murdering beats, I know a few cutthroats Strawberry D Smoke, that's all she want I told her shut the fuck up, and suck a nigga dick or somethin' We're top notch, overlord of the weed spot With his moon roof open blowin' pot Wallaby Clarks, 96 style Frontin' in the B-Boy stance like I was Run or somethin' (run) The mic killer, the money getter, nigga roll somethin' It's the return of the Deacon speakin' what the fuck they want (preach) Bitch, you ain't got nothin' on the rich Every four bars a nigga whole style switch Polo sports basics, getting lifted, it's wasted Baby, tell your mans learn to bag first and then get money A simple assignment you crash test dummies This is complex rhymin' homie Sour Diesel smoke, got the smell all on me Great clouds in the whip, bad bitch all on me You know the clique spit slick, Crown Nation, homie It's Wasted, homie, till the days end And the days end, L blazin', it's amazin', raise up [Chorus: Quelle Chris] Smokin' off Feelin' like I'm smokin' off some Feelin' like I'm lifted off that Feelin' like I'm burnin' down some Get lifted off Get lifted off Get lifted off Get lifted off [Outro] Wait, what the fuck am I supposed to say in this? He told me - he said some shit about like... being you is great, I wish I could be you more often, y'know? Keep your eyes out