GT Performer

[Intro: Action Bronson] It's me, it's me Uh, yeah [Verse 1: Action Bronson] I got the big bag of Skittles, like Marshawn Lynch No matter what, we never far from a bench Never far from a stoop, never far from a hallway Never far from a main street, never far from a Broadway Uh, we say fuck what the law say Yeah, I play the white piano on a beach Tryin' to reach a higher place I know there's more out there than just us, right? So when I fuck, I try to make a doctor with this left nut Or the world's greatest opera singer Contribute something to this Earth before I leave it And come back as some other motherfucker named Steven From New Zealand That don't smoke trees; you know that I'm a fiend That's not gonna work; I hope it's just a dream, shit There's shark on the menu As I embark on this mission, to go cop haze From 1-7-3 and Audubeezy Five-hundred dimes, Body stashin' by the pee-pee Six-hundred pounds combined Stuffed like peppers in a Z-three I used to ride the pegs on a GT Performer [Chorus: Smoke DZA] Back of a GT Performer Uh [Verse 2: Green R. Fieldz] I burn wood, can't use no pussy heat to warm my chow with Sleepin' on us, then we pinnin' back your fuckin' eyelids If you don't wanna taste my food, then I'm fuckin' wildin' I'm tryin' to get to the millions, what you speak on is childish Big Lebowski with a pistol and a purpose Open it up and stitch it back just like a surgeon My plant size and structure'll leave you wordless Chain-smokin' Skittles like I'm nervous Your tree is worthless Hottest strain in the game, I know you heard it But still in the lab on some nerd shit They used to label me a drug lord Hundred packs in hot summers I put 'em in hands, now I got a brand And we made it look easy So when I say that I did it, these motherfuckers don't believe me I talk shit, but still 'bout that action, like Bronson And never let 'em do me like they did Nucky Thompson Word [Chorus: Smoke DZA] Back of a GT Performer Uh, smokin' some strong marijuana Right [Verse 3: Smoke DZA] Uh, I'm sick with the grammar, the Harlem glamour The boys try to slander, I'm hater-proof with the banter Laundry bag fulls of P's like I'm Santa Green thumb, green hand, like I'm Bruce Banner Keep my homie close, he a loose cannon I'm Dusse slammin' them shots back In the gamblin' spot, 'laxed Ramblin 'Pac raps The highest nigga breathin', in some Y-3 boots Your whole style see-through Keep it a hundred is what you hardly do Shit, I'm godly, dude On my '80s heavy metal, bumpin' Mötley Crüe Mix the Skittle with the Cookie, no Taraji Level I'm on, you'll never get here, even with Bosley Too sweet in my poles, they think it's Illuminati They ain't even seen Hall & Nash probably The room cloudy Bad bitch, I'mma pipe her like Rowdy Rowdy Shit, this bud got me drowsy [Chorus: Smoke DZA] Uh-huh Yeah Back of a GT Performer Uh, smokin' some strong marijuana Some strong marijuana