[Verse 1: Matt Meyer Lansky]
Yo why the f** is you licking a reefer, Bumping Arethra, wearing a beater. chilling with beaners
You should be driving a beamer, listen to Bieber, drinking some Be-ers, licking the beaver
I be chilling with divas, rolling the pita , full of the reefer, smoking the cheeba, chilling with strippers I tell em meet'm
Then they come he-ere, s** on my peter
I'm sipping on some Damiana, smoking on some Marijuana, stunting like the Dali Lama
Rolling like Barack Obama, riding with a foxy mama, looking like a half man half rare ?
Money ain't a issue, damn I need a tissue, I just nutted in yo girl's mouth and then she kissed you
What up though, ya dumb ho?
I'm f**ing dunking like ?
My tongue flow sharper than a cutco
Dawg you wack as hell, if you was half as ill, then I would have to chill from leaving you pushing up daffodils
I got that getty green, get with me, get it to
b**h my pockets fatter than a motherf**ing ?
You a herbivore, f**ing pie guy, gotcho girl saying betty bye bye in some thigh highs
Got her in a position similar to doing Muay Tai, the milks already spilt, homey why cry?
I be in your shorty's thorax, and you?
You be getting less attention than a doormat
Hold that thought, while she blow Matt off, as I floss in a Porsche too small for Rick Ross
Her and homey only 5/6, but his width is only merely less than 5/6th by a slight inch
And I just relapsed, look at my twitch, whole body shaking from my thighs to my eyelids
Feeling colors, vibrant, I don't know what I did, swimming in pyramids as I listen to a violin
I don't know where my life is, feeling like this where life ends
Outer body experience holier than what Christ is
And now I know where Christ lives, anytime I want I can go and sit right beside him
Look at my eyes, you see the size of my pupils
You ain't running sh** yo you need that Metamucil
And I don't know about you bro I'm bouta be the talk of New York, no Joe bu*tafuoco
I'mma ruffian like Rufio, sniffing on some Elmers Glue, messing with a Rubix cube while trying to get the best of you
[Verse 2: Robb Bank$]
Me and you, yo momma and yo cousins too, f** with my crew
In the booth, lights off, backshots to yo boo
She believe all my lies and tell you like it's the truth
And I don't really give a f**, n***a what?
I flex, I stunt, make yo girl roll a blunt
Sorry if I'm too blunt, or for putting up a front
But enough about me, lets just talk about..Us
You lil b**h!
f** with me...Stop f**ing with me!