Grown Up

(album: Weed & Instrumental$ 2 - 2016)

Chevy's on switches, barbed wire the fences
Chromed out engines, not stopping for bitches
Scribble lyrics in my igloo, I'm too cool
Dead stock tissue in the box, my old, new shoes
Stomp that hoe shit, the fuck out
I got my money up, man hold it down for the south
My only mission, to the code I'm sticking
In the mist, gorillas burning killers
Conjuring spirits from the ghost whispers
Showed me how to be a colder nigga
Staying low, eyes open, focused on my figure
Smoking a bowl, sitting on a pot of gold, in my city
Seafood gumbo, sticking to my ribs
Hopping out my low rider, parked out side my moms crib
Kissed her on the cheek before I slid
Get in my car, lit up another clip and hit the front switch
Right before I dip, nigga you know what it is

Hella hard time, some how I skate but yet I wonder
If sooner or later, my city will take me, under
What could I do, hustle up or be broke
Home boy I thought you knew
More bricks, aw shit, another watch, another whip
Gold diggers head hurting, they, can't pick
Who to fuck first, cause my niggas all rich
Ferrari horse, I, paddle shift
488 Spider, quite extravagant
Ladies and Gents
Spitta in the building is a, major event
It's worth every cent
Ask anyone, that's ever been
I stand by my product, Jet Life fine purveyor of audio narcotics
You heard about us
Low riders and exotics outside lined up