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'