(Intro)
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I got you, homie
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Yea
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Okay
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We in this bitch
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Okay
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Ha ha
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Deuce!
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(Verse)
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Yea, they call me Deuce, what it do Jack?
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Far from a new Jack, this game like roulette
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Your mixtape trash, a hoe motherfuckin crew at
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She spin on that chain, I¡¯m with the foxfill and blew that
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She wanna know what kind of vehicle I¡¯m whippin in
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I¡¯m picture-perfect in this motherfuckin Instagram
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50 band, pounds signed no filter
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Call that ambulance for the beat cuz I killed it
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Uh, my ensemble¡¯s true religion
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Got a Puerto Rican with me and she truly with it
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If we talkin bout some money well I truly get it
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Everyday I¡¯m hustling, stack it to the ceiling
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(Hook)
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Uh, I¡¯m blowin gas, propane
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She let me hit it the first night, no shame
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I told that hoe my time is money like an Audemar
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Always on the grind with it just to keep from fallin off
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(Interlude)
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Fuck em, fuck em
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Like I said, baby
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Time is money like an Audemar
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Offshore to be exact
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On the set though, let me hit that one time
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Turn back up on these niggas
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It¡¯s only low such as reality up there
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Deuce!
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(Verse)
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Gasoline blowin straight up out of Baghdad
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Sippin lean got a nigga feelin jetlag
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First you go and get that money then respect and power
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And turn around and run rap, Kevin Laws
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I¡¯mma ball the fuck out til they come for us
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In a fresh pair of shells like a marker us
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They say you only live once, YOLO
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That¡¯s probably why I fucked around and went solo
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Instrumental serial killer murder for the hire
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Set the studio on fire and posted on this as 50
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Play the villain in the C Line, my niggas that¡¯s from the 50¡¯s
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Got a room up at the W, down to take it with me
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On a road to riches, I¡¯m flyin to go and get it
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Take yomotherfuckin life, I¡¯m tryna run nigga though
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Louie aviators, lookin like some pilots
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Say it¡¯s just half what the writers say
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Say we come through like a tidal wave
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Countin paper like I¡¯m readin through a text book
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Livin like a athlete, neighbors think I¡¯m westbrook
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Travelled all around the world, never been to Ocklahoma
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Bustin disappearin act on er, hocus pocus
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Uh, I swagged out in these Feragamas
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Mack that pussy out like I¡¯m Rocky Marciano
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Pull up to the grey stone in the Maserati
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With some white girls with me and they just wanna party
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I pop the bottle and they popin molly
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Then it¡¯s back to the spot for the afterparty
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I start a riot, burn it down just like a finco
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Surfer then a rapper like I¡¯m smoking on a eggroll
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And nigga fuck what the haters thinl
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They see me laughin outloud, straight to the bank
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Moneymaking, all these hoes in the catfight
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People don¡¯t bitch with me, all the flights
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Gas
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| 2Eleven |
