Lyrics

[Verse 1]
To Bass be the glory
You won't get no pussy smokin' zones, my mans
[Verse 2]
God damn, goddamnit, god damn (God damn)
Still smokin' good kush, god damn (God damn)
You **** still smokin' Reggie, god damn
You ain't my ****, you a motherfuckin' fan (Yeah)
(You a fan, ****)
[Verse 3]
Goddamnit, who got it on lock
You a pussy like Rob Cinderblock (Rob Cinder-what?)
You **** pussy, gettin' caught and then you talk (Snitch)
I used to hide the dime bags under rocks (You bitch)
I never once got caught from the cops
I never once told all that to the ops
But the boy turned to informer
One, but the boy haffi get, blood clot
[Verse 4]
God damn, goddamnit, god damn
Twenty-eight grams, goddamnit (God damn)
Game change, Broward County, switch lanes
Tryna count hella bands all in one hand, yeah
[Verse 5]
God damn, goddamnit, goddamnit (God damn)
How do you manage? Back on this planet
I barely could handle it
I need me my cannabis, just channel it
Gave me advantages, flow, Los Angeles
I might tan a bitch, fuck all that arguin'
(Fuck all that shit)
[Verse 6]
Fuck what a bitch say, give me my switchblade
Give you a big fade, what that punk say?
Make you a mistake, don't fuck up the fengshui
Like Kanye, sippin' in Bombay
All day, all day, don't fuck up the fengshui
(Don't fuck it up, please)
[Verse 7]
Fuck what a bitch say, give me my switchblade
Give you a big fade, what that punk say?
Make you a mistake, don't fuck up the fengshui
Like Kanye, sippin' in Bombay
All day, all day, don't fuck up the fengshui
(Blood clot)
[Verse 8]
God damn, goddamnit, god damn (God damn)
Twenty-eight grams, goddamnit (God damn)
Game change, Broward County, switch lanes
Tryna count hella bands all in one hand, yeah
Written by: Bass Santana, Kin$oul
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