[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
1998, life's great
Uh
TM, what up?
Taylor Gang business
[Verse]
Gold Daytona's with the navy face
Serenade your lady with the baby face
Pillow talking niggas, they be spewin' hate
Smoking Buddha with my shooter, doing crazy eights
Last call for alcohol, got your bitch with me
Harlem nights, shake the dice, watch me get jiggy
Gangster attitude, I don't get friendly
The plug said the price, told 'em, "Get with me"
I'm just celebrating life, get my drink on
Frank Lucas without the rat and the mink on
All about a dollar, hope you got my mеssage
Funny style nigga's nevеr be in my presence
Promote myself, Don King with the palm trees
Get you touched like paws, I got a long reach
Shitty foreign language speakin' in these satin sheets
If it ain't money what we talkin' 'bout, I barely speak
Crushed ice, red-eye flights, I'm overnight
All my boys from the hood, you niggas overhype
Williams, ladies feel 'em because he dress nice
Cocaine bright white, shades dim the light
Big woods, the marshals on me like Thurgood
Got some money stashed in the cut, 'case it don't go good
The highest, that slick talk gon' slip by us
And we ain't worried 'bout what you thinkin', your bitch eyein'
[Outro]
For real
For every user, there is a danger of a bad trip on the drug (Yeah, yeah)
Where sensory distortion becomes terrifying, and the acid head (Ah)
May leap from a window or run wildly through traffic
There is a steady flow in the San Fransico hospitals of young people (Back like a four and a half)
Who have freaked out and been picked up by the police in a state of desperate terror (Still got more in the stash, word)
Where are my parents? Do my friends know I'm here? Where am I?
Where are we?
Come here