He is a hustler, he’s no good at all
He is a loser, he’s a bum, bum, bum, bum
He lies, he bluffs, he’s unreliable
He is a sucker with a gun, gun, gun, gun
I got this feeling inside my bones
It goes electric, wavey when I turn it on
All through my city, all through my home
We’re flying up, no ceiling, when we’re in our zone…
My homies the real deal, we smokin’ that kill, kill
She shake it, it feel real.
The paper flowin’ still, now that bitch wanna chill
Damn, this shit stay chill.