Riding, I smoke til I feel like dying
I smoke til I feel like flying
Im trying hard not to lie
But these blunts only get me meaner
And these drugs only get me higher
Im with a girl that look like a leaner
And she loading up that fire
And Im gripping on that iron
Wanna bet that you wont try, me
While she here at least
Gimme fifty feet
I got thrift shop on my Bones
Theres no place like home
You throw money in the club
See I save it up in my room
You acting like you the bomb
But Im the only one that go boom
See I been the same since the womb
And Ima remain till the tomb
These dollar signs in my eyes
But you know that Im fucking cash
One million roaches in the train with the ash
Smoking in the night
Thinking bout my life
My hand on my lighter
Other hand upon my knife
Its cold in the streets
Its cold in the streets
Its hot up on the block if they call the police, like
Click-clack bang-bang get down low
I hate the fucking world on the fucking down low
Click-clack bang-bang get down low
The clouds rolling in Ima make it downpour
Its raining, its raining
Its coming down, and its raining, its raining
Its coming down, bitch its raining, its raining
Its coming down, and its raining, its raining
Its coming down