Wiz Khalifa - Red Carpet lyrics

Yea Gettin' more scrill, deal or no deal uh Yea, chubby bags Heavy hustle, course the gang, uh On, and on, and on, and on and We just drink and smoke until the morning You're homegirl's texting you, ignoring them Hit the weed, giggle a little, then you get horny I hit the weed, get on my mission, and then I'm goin' in Knowin' damn well they got boyfriends Till they get the front door, asked her which floor I'm on I'm at the top, polo socks and pajamas on She smoke chronic, know the lyrics to all my songs It's like I died and went to heaven, me and all my dogs That's why we sip champagne till the bottles gone Roll weed on ya take the b**hes, I don't follow y'all [Chorus] I can never make up this if I wanted to It's real talk what I'm saying to you I don't wanna wake up, knowing just one thought of you Got me fallen I can't get up (get up) So will you co-star with me? Cause my life is like a movie Champagne parties in my hotel Her friends don't even smoke, but they diggin' the smell Ex-boyfriend ringin' ya cell But every effort to save you's to no avail Nothin' but starter's on my team n***a coach fail And all we do is get high and watch the dough swim Relatively fly like a meteor or spaceship Party every night, and early morning get wasted All the way 100 you others n***as are make-shift Roll that rapper weed, you smoke and don't wanna taste it, lets face it She wanna fly where the planes is Got her testin' out all of my trees, mint-flavors She ? the paper [Chorus: x2] We stay smokin' that la-la-la Easy rider, joint roller, my 9-5 You can prolly smell it in the car when we ridin' by More like all the way up, we ain't kinda high We more than fly, introduce you to the gang members That's Taylor, like blood, no gang members No names enter, and now you on champagne land I'm on an island of hard liquor It be fans, joint lit, and guitar pickers Goin' nowhere for awhile, I got good snickers Now you wanna mingle, heard young single Big face chips baby, stack my Pringles You call it tight, I say well-fit And we ain't takin' no prisoners, now you jealous In ya state please make sure the weed great Fresh produce, purple and green crates Groove, crisp bills in my jean pants Telly room prolly doin' the Uncle Snoop dance, yea [Chorus: x2]