Breakfast

Some of the good things that weed can do

P.S.A., let me start shootin' them fuckin' commercials

(Jets in the house)

(Yeah)

(Yeah) (Yeah)

(Yeah)

I'm so cold with it, the potency of the beat

Is consistent with the fact that Mos did it

Prolific, not shaken or stirred

In the presence of those ****, herbs

They only after your bread, them fuckin' birds

You think they like your haircut, fair enough

Live your life, partner

Guess I could keep them two cents in my pocket

Add to these underground rap dollas

Refused the majors and stay real, I kept my promise

Rolled Bambus in the Bahamas, mama

It's either that, or them strawberry coladas

Xbox web browser, download an updated N.B.A. roster

Play an eighty-two game season, condo full of snacks, spitta not leaving

Off-brand muh'fuckas

Odd number, you are not even on my level

Write that sickness, my ink pen sneezin'

Yancey Thigpen can't catch me sleepin'

You ear hustlin' muh'fucka, and I'm eatin'

Creepin' with my side bitch, hope I don't get caught cheatin'

New Orleans this mornin', New York in this evenin'

Squintin' they eyes and shit, they can't see 'em

Fly in the house, buzzin', the buzz can't be him

Illegible letters in my ledger, they can't read 'em

Smilin', money pilin' I'm cheesin'

Odometer broken, I ain't know that I was speedin'

Fast livin', Sloe gin for these bitches

I got that game from my Pittsburgh ****

SV Diablo, ninety-six wings lift, Daniel-san crane kick

(You're the best around)

(You're the best around)

(You're the best)