Smoke DZA - Legends In The Making lyrics

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Smoke DZA - Legends In The Making lyrics

[Hook] Ridin, smokin prayin' Ridin, smokin prayin' Ridin, smokin prayin' We're legends in the making Ridin, smokin prayin' Ridin, smokin prayin' Ridin, smokin prayin' We're legends in the making And we roll up that dour Mo money, mo power And we roll up that dour Legends in the making And we roll up that dour Mo money, mo power And we roll up that dour Legends in the making [Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa] Young Khalifa winning young Khalifa winnin Every car I'm smoking weed Up in it, I don't know what type of sh** you on I need at least a zip Didn't you hear, I say the cars I own are never leased a whip Leather jacket, n***a muscle cars on that greaser sh** And my bandana tied, I play to ride Live a movie so make sure the camera right And I'm pullin up and hoppin out a mess of sh** that young n***as ain't supposed to get You know I'm rich Uh! n***a my whole squad getting it Practically live on the road Doing 100 when I'm in this b**h You know n***as kinda slow A raw paper and some bomb weed That lil n***a's tryna clone me And labels tryin to make the own me But I'm the only one and only [Hook] [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] Kush god, keep it rollin' like the brakes broken That's a little gram, little man that ain't smoking We move this sh**, movie sh**, I'm in motion George Kush, second term and I'm still loaded Yo b**h on me, all over my [?] I'm in the bay, smoking on King Henry On that YO, retro haze but SP I don't search for trees, I am OG Lil n***a your lungs ain't strong enough to hot box with God You ain't got no ones and you mouthin off n***a knock it off, you n***as is through Run we goin down, that's how much we gon do I got so much rugby, you have to start my own dude Big face Rollie, and my mob stay smooth f**in b**hes, not I'm lookin like a n***a like you I'm from Harlem [Hook] [Verse 3: Curren$y] Homes where you get that weed from Please don't roll another one I don't even think that's trees son Bullsh**, all this to show you something Motor running, tank on F High octane, high off the best strain I write with my left brain Haters face get tight when it's set game And them hoes know the business Boss tight game for the ones they missin No book, boy we handle b**hes n***a I rap clothes off yo women Homes, I smoke a zone in one sitting Gold and chrome, 13 inches Boxes on the dashboard, 16 switches Car full of fumes, smoking that fuel Exxon on in the ashtray of my coupe Send her home smellin like Chevron fool You more than whip, expectin you to Double my money, double the crew Triple what we smoked yesterday Then it's 4-20, 24/7 Spitter Andretti, Ferraris and Chevys [Hook]