This your boy Wiz Khalifa man
|
And I'm a talk my shit, yeah, bitch
|
I hope ya'll niggas is used to hearing my voice by now,
|
And if not, get used to it
|
|
I woke up from a California dream again,
|
Next to someone's daughter who I'll probably never meet again
|
You call her a groupie hoe?
|
Ask me I say she a fan
|
Spending all her hours thinking bout what she gonna do and when
|
I be on that 747 flying frequent shit
|
You get all the press and try to check for when I'm due to land
|
And get home in the daytime, way about the PM
|
Tryin' to finish living out this dream so I be sleeping in
|
And they ask me if I'm lonely
|
I ain't long as my money good cause she my one and only
|
Critics got they face up in my business gettin nosy
|
But I'm just out here putting on for anyone who knows me
|
No, I ain't in my position getting comfy
|
Drinking bigger and ifa chief and bring alisa oz
|
I stay with me some backup, in case you run up on me
|
He gonna play the pastor, make a nigga holy
|
|
They call me the 501 Don
|
Mr. know he got a pear of 501's on
|
My marijuana strong and these hoes ain't shit but probably calls
|
Dog I met her at the club, we was fucked up wildin
|
Made it to my crib we was both drunk, driving
|
Now you on some lame shit, claiming you're my main bitch
|
Do us both a fav, don't text, don't call me, darling
|
I was made to ball it's like Spaulding rolling
|
They say I'm the bomb and they call Wiz, atomic
|
Hotter than New Orleans, or a geoge foreman grill,
|
And Chevy eyes caught like Jalil
|
I'll is what I go so I need sudafed,
|
Big dog nigga all ya'll poodle fed
|
Money in the wall all through the vent
|
Still got time to blow
|
|
-----------------
|
Starstruck (Remix)
|
Wiz Khalifa |