[Verse 1: Smoke DZA]
You smell that fragrance
You know my steez, you know my squad, you know what my name is
The hoes call me Smokey
Rugby down low key
Smell that strand, I mean that stench my cologne is OG
Oh he
Only talk about weed and counting loot
But what the f** did you expect?
That's what I like to do
sh** on your best outfit
And I'm on my old school Harlem, best-out sh**
Who house this?
I'm in your fridge about to fix a plate
Feet all over your table like I own the place
On my Calvin sh**
Slide your sister, show your brother cheese
Like "Sorry Ms. Billups, we going out to eat."
I got a hustler's aura
Plus I'm a 9-11 n***a with morals
I don't owe you n***as sh**, I ain't got nothing for ya
Unless you my CoDee, you don't know me, n***a blow me
[Bridge: Mad Max]
OK I'll burn the goddamn house down
But blow me first, how dare you, how f**ing dare you
Rrraaarggghh
[Verse 2: Smoke DZA]
I get it in, buckets like Gilligan
Plus the riddles I riddle like I'm on Ritalin
Competition is little cause I get rid of them
I'm illa' then, whoever that you considerin'
I give a f** how n***as feelin' bout who's hot, son
Cause opinions are like Facebook, everybody got one
I ain't into fiction, that's a James Cameron feel
I'm more like Michael Moore, what I document is real
I hate a n***a trying to give advice
Talking that k**er sh** and he don't live that life
Focus up
Don't f** up your day shift
Go ahead and miss me with that "back-in-the-day" sh**
n***as will tell you anything, foolery
Whole lifestyle just ghetto buffoonery
I'm on your heels, n***as better pay homage
It's fair warnin' cause the game's on orange
[Outro: Mad Max]
You look like a f**ing b**h in heat
And if you get raped by a pack of n******gs it'll be your fault. All right?
That's my f**ing mistake, because I should've woke you up and said, 'f**ing blow me, b**h.'
I should've f**ing woken you up and said 'blow me.' You would've liked that better, yeah?
(panting) Because you got problems, more than me
You know how to f**ing push my bu*tons