Yeah
It's about 3: 47 in the morning right now
I'm in the booth gettin' it in while y'all was under covers (Covers)
Where your blankets warm and snug, hah
Flock Fresco baby
I'm in there like swimwear and out there like mouth gear, ya dig?
Yeah
No kiss or huggin'
She don't miss her husband
Lanez that nigga that your bitch is [?]
Yeah we make you pay, makin' in Jamaican shade
Or in New York shootin' hoops like Flava Flav
Oh ten [?] so low could send a fire soul
Watchin' Shauna paint better pictures than Picasso
Gettin' money from lil' somethin' to heavyweight
The pack is with' it, a bag of bitches in every state
See I done came from nothin'
To a heavy slate
See y'all can hate while me and Freddy laughin' to the bank
You're actin' what you ain't
We know you're fried jawl
Clique full of goons, who do not smile
Techila vodka got me higher than your momma's pie
I've been the topic since I came out of my momma cryin'
And I'ma get this money, makin' sure my papas fine
Oh and to end it off, nigga Flocka died
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