Cuban
[Chorus] (x2)
Cuban with the whole team; Cuban with the gold link
Table with the cold drinks; baby with the cold mink

[Verse I: Lew Salem]
Man I pull up in that whip that don’t officially exist
Had the badges shaved off, ain’t no telling what it is
After-market body kit, floating like a spaceship
Got my fashion from the future, pulled it through a time rift

Doctor Who up in this bitch, you could call my whip the Tardis
That shit foreign like my women, I’m so in love with exotics
I’m withdrawing from the spotlight, tryna focus on deposits
Keep the funding coming in, so I can boost my economics

Too much bull up in the market, but I dodge it like a matador
And I do it with finesse, the Spanish call me Lew Salvador
Want the matte black Aventador, with the Huracan to match
Taken them mirrors off the dash, niggas ain’t worried bout the past

Mo’ money, mo’ problems, swear that’s been the truth forever
If you solve the problems right, then I promise they’ll get better
If you dippin’ in my cheddar, no mistake, a fatal error
Planet Terror comin’ for you, and you ain’t no Michael Cera
[Chorus] (x2)

[Verse II]
I’m in full stunt mode, CT Fletcher with the flex
That direct deposit hit, issa step up from a check
I’m so muhhfuckin’ rare, I feel like a golden Pepe
Throw confetti on my haters, cause a nigga bold and petty

Over-ready for the come up, and the whip that feel like Forza
Real Montana with the paper, people think I whip that coca
Really, I don’t touch the dope; can’t put my future on them lines
Got all these goals I need to finish, my ambitions super-sized

I just want a little mansion, something fancy for the family
Have them holed up in La Jolla where them niggas can’t reach
Or at least, somewhere where we safe from Federales
If we feel like doing damage, then we shut down Fashion Valley

All the zeroes in my back account, I never see the end of it
Endless cash flows, feeling like it’s infinite
My potential really limitless, the roof for me is ceiling-less
I’m locked in, pray a nigga miss

[Chorus] (x2)