Mojito Music

[Intro: Larry June]

And nigga, I don’t glamourise none of that shit

But nigga, when you’re back to the wall, what you gon’ do, nigga?

You gon’ get it by any means

[Verse 1: Larry June]

I hit my nigga Spitta, like it's time to make classics

If I cop that SS, then I’ma keep that bitch classy

As the money get bigger, then the whips get faster

I’ma water all my plants and watch my eighty-inch plasma

Built the studio in the Bay just to record my shit

I might matte the Six orange, and leave it parked in the city

Big mojitos on the island, I had to dip real quick

I ain't tryna have a kid, but you can be my (hahaha)

Excuses never got me shit, bitch, I'm a grown ass man

You know I went to Angel City and dropped like thirty on this

I get my watches out the box like my Nikes and shit

I'm spittin' facts on these tracks and steady mackin’ a bitch, what's happenin'?

How you doing, baby, you look like something I can fuck with

I love it when you wear your hair like that, let's have lunch, bitch

I been crushin' for a minute so I just had to get ya

So I’ma slide in your DM like, "what's happenin' wit ya?"

[Verse 2: Curren$y]

I was stoned and uninterested, she tellin' her life story

I'm thumbin' through my phones, pretendin' to be listenin'

My radar went off though, when this hoe mentioned the dividends

And contributin' heavy, only to gain membership

In this family I'm buildin' here, I flew her with me to the Bay

To meet my homie, Larry J, we stayed for a couple days

She was bait, and brung me back a couple strays

Say they tryna get with it

Wouldn’t put this in my lyrics, if this shit was fictitious

You can't get her to wash the dishes

I had her fuckin’ and stripping, that's cold fa sho

But that also how it go, respect the laws, dawg, baby chose

Runnin' her fingers cross the ceiling of my Rolls

Touchin' the stars, this the yellow brick road, bitch

Go and get ours, in the booth laying truth

Over bass, drums snares and flutes

Floatin' in one spot, like a yacht at the dock, till the money call out

And put the spoon to the pot, time to count up

Mama, show me how much you love you got

Exitin' the stash house, fishtailin', driftin' in somethin' expensive

On another mission, dollar-sign vision, champagne sippin'

[Verse 3: Berner]

Jamaican rum with some fresh mint from our garden

I hit the forty lighter with some cookie fan pollen

Why your baby mama callin'? She keep callin'

Yeah she know what I like, and it's flights out to Boston, yeah

Dirty Bay water, and that fog for the bosses

While we choppin' up game, we ain't takin' no losses

I got C's around my neck, ain't no Jesus piece or crosses

And this weed in my bag are all brand new crosses

In my driveway, I got four or five different options

Dirty strippers in my ear tryna fuck

Without no condoms

Big mojito shit, burn, bury cash in different countries

Fell in love with drug money, bitches pay me just to suck me

Used to slap 11/5 and keep Vegas in rotation

Now we spend a mil’ in Ibiza, just for motivation

Eight days of vacation, I'm on Chuck Chillout

Break the kush down, pull another pill out