Go (Gas)
Fuckin' put on a wrong head, pair of headphones and shit, uh
Just took ten shots and I ain't passed out
Spent a hundred grand and I ain't cash out
If you smoking OG, bring the grass out
These niggas filled up, bring the gas out
Talkin' 'bout some shit that you know you stole
I have my fuckin' way with this game, no remote control
Drinking on some gin 'cause I like alcohol
How the fuck you supposed to win, you don't know how to ball
Turnt up but still smoking
Tryna drive but my eyes barely open
See the cars, see the watch, see I done moved up
In my condo smoking out watching True Blood
Tryna take Taco to the strip club
Tryna take Tyler to the dealer bruh (I'm right here guys!)
Tryna take Domo to the weed spot
True pothead so I need pot
Go, I'm so fuckin' loaded
Pockets and the smoke and all the bitches
Tell 'em
Go, faded and I'm floatin'
I hope your lungs is open
All the bitches, tell 'em, go
(Now I been around the world before
But I never thought it'd be this way
And I smoked up all this weed before
But I never thought it'd feel this way)
And all the bitches be like, "Yeah"
Celebration shots got me really faded
Kind of famous, enough to laugh like I really made it
Drunk enough to stir some controversy, bitch let's fucking tape it
I feel amazing, making digits off my fucking cadence
Suck a dick hater while I selfie with the Eifel Tower
Five star general, the Odd Future I'm Eisenhower
Said I couldn't make it, I show you niggas to fight the power
Igniting sour, watching Chowder in my finest hour
A clearer mix of acid jazz and blue grass
Niggas still stuck in the past, opening new scabs
Me and Wiz matching bottles nigga, open two tabs
Stumbling out with six models, my nigga order two cabs
We ain't worried 'bout rivals, them niggas too trash
Fuck what niggas think, I'm the illest one in the new class
And I don't give a fuck what niggas ain't fuckin' with
OFWG run with the team or suck a dick
Go, I'm so fuckin' loaded
Pockets and the smoke and all the bitches
Tell 'em
Go, faded and I'm floatin'
I hope your lungs is open
All the bitches, tell 'em, go
(Now I been around the world before
But I never thought it'd be this way
And I smoked up all this weed before
But I never thought it'd feel this way)
And all the bitches be like, "Yeah"
Guitars sound like some Kill Bill shit, watch it
That's that church tambourine shit
My grandma used to play that
Nigga
Golf Wang
(Turn up) Yessir
I got old money, I got new money
Put 'em together, I got huge money
Bank teller call my phone, she tell me I'm putting on
Twenty years of success, let's toast to the best
Sip on some Ace then I pour out the rest
Fuck bitches, get ends
Drink gin, fuck their friends
Juicy J three hoes in a white on white Benz
I stay sipping codeine
Blue dream I'm rolling up
Looking for a bitch with bank statements like Oprah
These black diamonds racist, Louis V no laces
My plug on call coming straight up out the basement
All I know is money, it don't look like you
One shot from the chopper make you look like two
Go (Go, go, go, go, go, go, go)