Irene

Big blunt full of that Irene Better watch yo bitch boy she like me Tattoos nothin but a white T I can tell you why they don't like me Cuz I'm a star Is it Cause Of the cars Cause we get to the Guap Boy pray to your god Me against you that's a miss match top floor nigga where yo bitch at Shoot a f*ck nigga in his six pack leave him wit a shit bag tell that boy get back Three fifty the sneakers you boys in the bleachers Penthouse for the weekend two hoes finna five off the deep end I'm a custom hemi thing creepin semi on a nigga for the o and the defense K got the mop he gon clean shit E got the broom he gon sweep shit Niggas never been wit the G shit up while u sleeping This ain't for the weekend gave the bitch a pill now I got the bitch peakin Every nigga wit me hold weight bought a whole zone just to smoke to the face Pack touch down send it back out of state Ride around in Cali in a lac paper plates Twenty four hours then I'm back home base Two days in then I'm back out of state Rollin up exotic blow the smoke in your face All head shots so he can't save face We be eatin good let yo bitch say grace On a money run you just in a rat race When I pulled up shoulda seen a nigga face Never leave the crib without a glock on my waist Everything we do for the cake Big blunt full of cheesecake Blow the smoke in a hater face Ayy Bigg blunt full of that Irene Better watch yo bitch boy she like me Tattoos nothin but a white T I can tell you why they don't like me Cause I'm a star Is it cause of the cars Cause we get to the guap Boy pray tp your god One fifty got the hemi thing screamin Clique full of mufuckin demons Bad bitch suckin on my semen flew her in to town now she mine for the weekend Big bank chasers real risk takers Keep jars full of flavors I just pulled up came for the paper Pocket lil baby I save her for later She want some bread ima mold her n shape her Start up my car and I got the house shaking Hit that bitch raw and I leave her legs shaking Ain't help the kid but be askin for favors Don't check for me less you got checks or paper She bad as f*ck but can't love her or save her I'm back in the trap wit my bro from Jamaica Big blunts of gelato the AR got drums that hit like a staccato Big glock wit the hollows they know that it's on me where I go But f*ck all the bull shit we smokin wit models in penthouses right on the top bro They want it to stop bro We never gon stop ho Pull up we do it for paper Pull up we keep in the flavors I say it's no L's then I woulda lied I lost a O but yo homie died You know my niggas them finna slide We livin like that shit all the time I know you niggas ain't finna ride I'll see yo boys on the other side