Turnt Up

[Intro: Dizzy Wright]

Like nah nah nah

Nah nah nah, nah nah nah

Nah nah nah

Nah nah nah, nah nah nah

[Verse 1: Chris Webby]

C Web in the booth and I speak it real

Got another beat to kill

And I be roasting motherfuckers

Rest In Peace Patrice O'Neil

Roll up another blunt

Now how that Diesel feel?

Got me swerving man

Who the fuck gave me the wheel?

Who the fuck gave me these pills?

Now I'm off in another dimension

In need of an intervention

Cause these drugs are too fucking expensive

But I'm feeling terrific dude

Banging these broads with no fucking protection

Yeah, what were you saying babe?

I wasn't paying any fucking attention

Rumbling engine, rolling up in my Camaro and cruise

Living it like a pirate man

Always got me a barrel of booze

Skipping the food

Go right for the tiramisu

Sippin' and rippin' the bubbler

Puffing until I can barely move

Lay back and then stare at the moon, ooh

Bippidy bobbidy boo

Webby be rippin' it properly too

Hipping and hopping and rambling shit

Cause these pills I've been popping have got me confused

Screwed up, burn it down

Light it up, pass it around

I'm a bad boy bitch

You didn't know? You know it now

[Hook]

We just doin' what we doin', and we'll never give a fuck

Put some liquor in my bottle and some ganja rolled up

We just livin' like whatever and we'll never have enough

Bout to get this motherfucker turned up (turned up)

Like nah nah nah

Nah nah nah, nah nah nah

Nah nah nah

Nah nah nah, nah nah nah

[Verse 2: Dizzy Wright]

I'm not the one you want a problem with

Positive, you better follow it

Swear I'm ready for whatever standing in front of my mirror

Supporting my confidence

A little weed, you could throw it on top of this

We get it poppin', yo bitch gettin' topless

Now that you know, niggas adopting the flow

Niggas can't stop this shit

The problem is we won't acknowledge it

But me and Webby (I wanna get that)

If that nigga wanna get mad, sit up and get up

And fuck that (get that)

Now I'm playing like a kid on the black top

Got the juice with a flat top

You got a flat face

Bad boy, it's a bad day

Look at me sideways, and I'mma hit you with a uppercut

Too cold, better bundle up

Huddle up cause we comin' up

Turnt up, finna fuck it up

I guarantee that the crowd go crazy

When I hit the stage, you could bet a hunnit bucks

Boy we out here grindin'

Smoking the finest, getting the highest

Getting the mommas, you know when I'm coming

Just smell for the ganja

Vegas; soldierz, takin' over

Traveling and taking shots

Tattoo shops, don't forget the place to rock

I need a nasty girl to taste the cock

In the office, running all over these niggas

Like bitches, you niggas is softer than niggas

That just got to prison, this Project X shit is real

Somebody pass the god damn liquor

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Chris Webby]

That rap phenomenon

Inked up, looking like Comic Con, Rasta mon

H.A.M. on the mic, no Ramadan

Go on and on, and leave with a soccer mom

Cause I kill that beat

Roll one up in that Swisher Sweet

Sticky green, sticky green

With orange hairs, like Pete and Pete

Flowing double time when I freak the beat

Holding up mine when I hit the street

Burn so much, I be high for weeks

Spit it so dirty, I need new sheets

My grinder's full, and I ain't talkin turkey, cheese

I'm talking AK47, Purple Kush and Sour D

Put it in the bowl, I'll get a dutchie rolled

Sprinkle some keef on it, and then away we go

Get in the flow, lighting up heady to dro

Partying on, got that confetti to throw

Killing the spot from the moment

That Webby'll step in the door

Hit some shit, got my pencil gripped

Instrumental ripped, living life

Above the law, and way under the influence

Getting mine while the price high

What can I say? I'm pretty fly for a white guy

[Hook]