Tis the Season

[Intro] This is the fucking resurrection Get the fuck up niggas The restoration of that real shit HS87 [Verse 1: Price] I be posing for photos, eating at Sotto Sotto Maxing .44s, bought that straps from the cholos Packed in low lows, smell like Swisha packs and dodo For sure sure, this that Austin Powers mojo flow B O dub loco never disrespect the bro code You mofos couldn't get over my bars with a pole vault I'll Titanic any rapper trying to show boat Notorious, Big L, if I Pac this that ghost flow We pass out licks, will pass my bitch before I will pass the dutch Disrespect you see tecs, UPS might package you Love a brown skin, thick, phat ass that bounce back at you You niggas biting Count Dracula We getting money we laugh at you Now hold it This the part where I finally woken Drinking potion til I'm choking, Clarence Carter I be stroking This that bitch I made in motion, your girl wanna fuck no joking She told me she's home alone and tonight I'm Macaulay Culkin We out here balling for no reason So much money, white folks is calling us heathens We giving meat to these women claiming they vegan (We giving meat to these women claiming they vegan.) [Hook] Tis the season to be balling for no reason Fuck it I'€™m not responsible Tis the season to be balling for no reason Fuck you I'€™m not responsible Tis the season to be balling for no reason Fuck you I'€™m not responsible [Verse 2: Joey Bada$$] Beware that new strain gun powder Shoot it up your veins and puff power Fiends on that chemical X for enough hours When that adrenalin Russian Rou-let's arouse her Cock it, cock it, when you had enough I want you take it out the socket Energy surge when you touch it, bring it, babe watch it Turn up, little sumchin, keep that boom box thumping That bass, that loud, her system be jumping I just hope the speaker ain't bomb bumping She take my jewels and she blow like she drying something It's a must that she know that I ain't nutting I ain't nothing, stereo type humping the wall Acne on her face, beat bumping and all I beat that loco with my 47 cholos Please don't take no photos if it ain't of nosotros Open up those Ojos, stop choking up that pojo, ho Get your hustle on the floor, hit the door I got that good shit for the low I let them know So line them up, line them up, we 'bout to blow [Hook] [Verse 3: Oktane] Give me the snare and that kick I need it the snare and that kick I came to talk on my shit You hating, hop off my dick I'm MVP of this game Same nigga, ain't shit changed So if you wasn't here when I was walking Then bitch don't get on that plane Here we go You niggas can't be serious, come on fam I got a list of niggas I'm ready to stunt on fam Like I'm the little nigga that you used to front on man You still work at the same spot from when I left on, damn Okay, you can talk on your shit, I'mma just make more hits My team is winning by so much we'll make yours quit Like I wear a size 5 nigga, I will never forfeit Like size 5, 4, 3... Ah, nigga fuck that shit I step in fresher than two showers You got dressed for like two hours Your bitch like my girl She came with me, you too sour My niggas all real niggas Your niggas are true cowards I'm the king of the hill I don't need Hank, Bobby, or Boomhauer To tell me that, don't want your shit, don't sell me that Cops on us, we selling crack Every bar on every track, no holding back Hit told me we got to bring the West back so I helped him So ladies and gentlemen, California's finally back You're welcome, Oktane [Hook]