Garage Talk

[Intro: Wiz Khalifa] Uh I just got the fuck off a plane [Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa] Six car garage, I got more than one job Be a boss, go hard Wake up, smelling kush when I yawn Shorty wanna fuck with the king, tired of them pawns Ain't on the top? Well, that's nonsense Bank account full of G's, so that's all you gon' get TSA know my face so they don't trip Chain frostbit bitch that I'm with don't give me no lip We done touch M's, now we on to billions Hard to explain how these new rugs feeling Blowin' kush up in high ceilings Having meetings at the crib, confidential dealings And I ain't gotta tell you who the realest is, that's my nigga Spitta Foreign cook cheffing where the kitchen is Money straight where my business is And the girls fuck with me, so I'm always where the bitches is, kid [Bridge] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah I see all the sexy mami's in here Hey, ayy, Wiz I smell you up here, too Make sure you pass that KK to the DJ booth Aw shit, here comes Spitta on them gold BBS's [Verse 2: Curren$y] Yep, swung through, gold BBS and the spoiler kit 1986, slinging that shit They want the family price on the bricks But I just had a son, and I only love him So I ain't coming down on the price Ain't no where else you gon' get shit this nice Got cocaine white Air Force Nikes Bought K-Swisses for all my bitches Put hightop troops on all my shooters Bought the Goose down jacket from the boosters Shootouts on the roof, racing in them coupes She wore the Gucci frames with the door knocker hoops And the lying motherfucker tell you I ain't the truth Rich uncle come through, pop the trunk, pull the duffel Lay the merchandise out, get the loot, motherfucker East side real nigga, show ya how to hustle Outside, put the fucking Chevrolet's on the bumper If it don't hop, nigga, park that shit That ain't no low rider, thats a rollin' imposter Put the stocks on fool, quit playing like you out here 2009, all kind of high How Fly had fools on the moon trying to drive It's a stoned duo, solid gold judo Kicked the fuck out that game and now she won't go [Outro] Ladies, if you ain't got your own drinks, you gotta get out the section You heard my man Spitta Fellas, raise your glasses Tip your bartenders And make sure you take that nigga bitch We bout to ride out Jet Life, Taylor Gang, ow