Tuesday Thru Sunday - Us (Thursday) lyrics

[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!