I'm with Buckshot, summertime drivin'
Hot outside so we gotta keep the top off
Up now but you know I still bust shots
High-grade, they like, "Wait, lemme cop some" (yeah, yeah)
Swear to god I live in Kate Moss moments
Had it in my hands but I fumble when I hold it
Under city lights, movin' outta frame
West Village bitch but she won't stay the same
Bones too sharp, skin stays tight
Breath too slow from a long last night
Heart too fast and my chest gets tight
Cryin' out my name with tears in her еyes
Q for the fifty, 25 eighth
She cute and she miss me, callin' me bae
But I'on got time, bitch, I'm married to the game
Fast (fast life, man, I'm lovin' this pace)
Every leap of faith of fall
Fade away into the curtain call
I found God in the bathroom stall
Forgive my sins, pray to Saint Laurent
You know I'm cold, but I'm hot, I got a fever
I'm puttin' Tris in a Crush two-litre
We got yay, come fluffy like a bunny
Blood on my Givenchy tee, nose runnin'
I'm with Buckshot, summertime drivin'
Hot outside so we gotta keep the top off
Up now but you know I still bust shots
High-grade, they like, "Wait, lemme cop some"
You know I'm cold, but I'm hot, I got a fever
I'm puttin' Tris in a Crush two-litre
We got yay, come fluffy like a bunny
Blood on my Givenchy tee, nose runnin'
I'm with Buckshot, summertime drivin'
Hot outside so we gotta keep the top off
Up now but you know I still bust shots
High-grade, they like, "Wait, wait, wait, wait"
Good dope, no feelings
I'm so high, call me the ceiling
Balenciaga bag full of whispers and pills
Dior on the dresser, I got blood on the bills
Up, down, sideways, but I'm fallin' backwards
Pop a painkiller, Oxycodone wit' a Xanax
I was on the runways, I was out in Paris
Now I don't even leave the house, I'm embarrassed
You know I'm cold, but I'm hot, I got a fever
I'm puttin' Tris in a Crush two-litre
We got yay, come fluffy like a bunny
Blood on my Givenchy tee, nose runnin'
I'm with Buckshot, summertime drivin'
Hot outside so we gotta keep the top off
Up now but you know I still bust shots
High-grade, they like, "Wait, lemme cop some"
Osca
2:25
