SMOKE (feat. MATCHA)

I got the sauce inside the bag, ‘sup with that? (‘Sup with that, ‘sup with that) Man these critics talkin’ shit, ‘sup with that? (‘Sup with that, ‘sup with that) These bitches lookin’ like a snack, ‘sup with that? (‘Sup with that, ‘sup with that) These haters sleepin’ on my album, f*ck yo’ nap Smokin’ out a pack, I got the homies in the back (In the back) And we out to make some racks, we getting paid in all cash (Hell yeah) Sexy bitches wanna ride, but they party ’til they die (Hah) I’m feelin’ fuckin’ high, you can see it in my eyes In my eyes, look in my eyes, had thoughts of suicide (I wanna die) Lies, girl tell me lies, she on the other side (F*ck your lies) My, oh my, oh my, that whip I wanna buy (I wanna buy) When I record these lines, call that a homicide, rah Goin’ on ‘em with the sicko mode Got twenty labels that are on the phone Flow’s dope, I keep it lyrical At the top, call it my pinnacle Goin’ on ‘em with the sicko mode The weakest rappers acting cynical Asian shawties playing with the snow Night is young, but we moving slow (Aye) Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, aye (Aye, what) Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, aye Okay, okay, okay, okay (Yuh) Fam be askin’ if I’m doin’ okay, what do I say? (I don’t know) Water gun on melee, I spray, I like acting crazy (Blaow, blaow) They say, they say, they say, they say (Aye, what they say?) Eddie’s hasty, man he needs saving (Huh?) Don’t go no savings, his future’s lazy (Okay) He won’t be famous, ‘cause they all hate him (Yeah?) Man, he’s so tasteless, lives in a basement Don’t be asking me fucking questions, ‘cause what do I know? (What do I know?) I know that I’m the king, you can just call me El Dorado (El Dorado) My chances of failing are the same as winning the lotto (Win the lotto) I’ll take my time with my success like I’m moving legato Goin’ on ‘em with the sicko mode Got twenty labels that are on the phone Flow’s dope, I keep it lyrical At the top, call it my pinnacle Goin’ on ‘em with the sicko mode The weakest rappers acting cynical Asian shawties playing with the snow Night is young, but we moving slow Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, aye (Aye, what) Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, aye Say you want the smoke, but it’s just smoke and mirrors (Pow, pow) Every word I’ve spoken, you’re supposed to hear I’m letting you know, over the phone, close to your ear, oh dear I’m Edna Mode, dramatic, my flow is my fabric, so sheer (Sheesh) Wondering who shot ya? It’s not MATCHA Not my style I stay saucing like Sriracha If I did it, then I said it Keep me out your mentions Or I might just snap on you like hair bands (Yeah) Hold up pause, I’m Smokey Catch these fists, nothing but bare hands Aye, what Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, aye (Aye, what) Man, these haters want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these critics want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Man, these rappers want some smoke, here we go (Here we go) Here we go, boutta blow, no, what